


Saturday Nights

by BneJovi



Series: Saturday Nights Gave Me Sunday Mornings [1]
Category: Bon Jovi (Band)
Genre: Foster Care, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Rape/Non-con, teenage runaway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BneJovi/pseuds/BneJovi
Summary: Just two kids hitching down the road of life...





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey! Watch it, kid!” the tall brunette exclaimed when Jon barrelled into him as he hurried down the city street with his head down low, “I’m tryna work here.” 

Jon had been too busy looking behind him and trying not to get noticed by the cops to look where he was going. He’d had his hands buried deep in his pockets to ward off the chill of the night so had no chance of saving himself as he and the older boy, who had stepped backward onto the curb from the side of a car, tumbled together on the pavement in front of a disused storefront.

“Shit I’m… I’m sorry,” Jon apologised and hastily swiped at his face, brushing the hot tears of shame away before the other boy saw them. 

The other car took off quickly as a police car chose that moment to cruise by doing their patrol. Jon quickly ducked his head down, his long shaggy hair hiding his face.

“Fuck! There goes my customer,” the other boy swore and flipped the cops off as they passed by, “Assholes.” He stood up and brushed himself off. 

Jon tilted his head and followed the boys long legs up as he stood with his hands on his hips looking down the street. He turned and pinned Jon with the softest brown eyes Jon had ever seen and dimples, one more pronounced than the other when he spoke. “You running from the cops, kid?” he asked, “What did ya steal?”

Jon shook his head, muttering, “I didn’t steal anything.”

“You couldn’t have made yourself any more obvious when they cruised past,” he mimicked the way Jon had almost curled inside himself, “So if you’re not running from the cops… then who are you running from?” he asked and held his hand out to Jon to help him stand.

“What does it matter?” Jon shrugged and started walking again. The temperature seemed to drop lower as Jon pulled up the collar of his denim jacket and shoved his hands back in his pocket.

“Hey.. hey kid,” the boy yelled after him, “be careful around these streets. You never know who you’ll bump into.” He cackled at his own joke as he propped himself up against the shop front again.

**~*Previously*~**

Jon Bongiovi had been a foster kid for as long as he could remember. He’d been in and out of various foster places, some nicer than others, some downright evil. 

He was just shy of a year from being free from the system when he was shoved into the latest house of horrors. 

The father, a loose term at best, closed the door on the foster coordinator and turned to him, saying, “You’re a real pretty one, ain’t ya? I wonder if you’re as good as you look?”

It hadn’t taken long for the abuse to start. Physical, mental… sexual. He’d tried to resist, to fight back, but it only earned him a beating or worse.

He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong to the universe to earn him such a place in this nightmare. He’d tried running away only to get hauled back by the police and thrust into the open arms of his own personal demons. He’d also contemplated ending it, figuring that even Hell would be a better place than this.

So to avoid any conflict he made sure he was so busy that he didn’t have to spend much time at the house. He got himself a job and spent every spare moment at the library to study. 

It didn't deter the woman, who would enter his bedroom every day and force him to fuck her or she’d just drop to her knees and suck him off where he sat. 

Why didn’t he fight back? Because when he did the man would tie his hands and force him over the back of the sofa in the living room and either take the belt to his ass or force himself into Jon’s body with little regard to his pleasure or pain.

When the woman started sending him on errands for her friends he was glad to go just to get away from them. The visits started off innocently enough; mowing lawns, trimming hedges and cleaning pools and such, but little did he realise that he was being put on display for the highest bidders. 

The first time it happened he’d just finished cleaning Mrs McClymont’s pool when she called him into the kitchen.

“I’ve made some fresh lemonade Jonny,” she smiled. 

Jon later realised it was like a tiger’s smile when it had its prey in its sights. 

“Would you like a glass to cool you down? You’re looking rather…” she licked her lips and ran her polished fingernails down his sweaty chest, lingering far too long above the waistband of his jeans, “hot.”

“Um… yes please,” he answered nervously.

The exact details from that day are scratchy at best but Mrs McClymont sent him home with the cash and it was the first of many odd-jobs from his foster mother’s friends.

He would fuck the bored housewives and get sent home with a pocketful of cash. All of which would be demanded to be handed over as soon as he walked in the door. If he put a little bit of effort into the deed, he would get a bit extra which he hid in his shoe and squirrelled away for the day he would be free of his hell.

Then it all came to a head one night when his foster she-devil had gone out with her friends and the man, sometime around midnight, forced his way into Jon’s room and into Jon. 

“Hey pretty boy,” the man whispered loudly in the dark, “Open those legs for me, boy. I want your sweet ass tonight.”

“Fuck off you filthy fucking pervert,” Jon snarled, instantly awake and on guard and scrabbling into the corner of his bed.

“Now that’s no way to speak to your Daddy, pretty boy,” the man said slimily as he stood at the end of Jon’s bed and rubbed himself through the threadbare underwear he wore. He dispensed with them swiftly, kicking them away and blatantly stoked himself in front of Jon.

“You’re not my father!” he growled, “You touch me and I’ll kill you!”

The man lunged for Jon, grabbing his leg and hauling him to the edge of the bed, forcing his thighs apart.

In the desperate fight that ensued, Jon had grabbed his baseball bat, smacking the guy with all his might over the head. He fell onto Jon’s bed, erection still standing obscenely as Jon scrabbled from underneath him.

“Fuck!” Jon swore and swallowed the bile that threatened to come up as he checked quickly for a pulse. 

He dressed in his warmest clothes and grabbed his wallet and all the money that he had stashed away in a hole in the closet wall. He ran and never looked back, hitching rides all night and most of the next day.

That was yesterday; tonight, he was looking for a safe spot to rest after spending a couple of dollars on a burger and a coke. 

He found a doorway in an unused shopfront a few blocks down from where he had bumped into that tall, good-looking kid. He made sure the rest of his money, meagre as it was, was well hidden as he curled in on himself against the chill and his eyes started to close and he slept from sheer exhaustion.

 

“Hey! Hey, kid?!” 

He dreamt of a hand clamped down on his shoulder and could see his foster father’s face but a different voice came out of his mouth in a disturbing recount of his previous night.

“Get away from me you fucking prick!” Jon lashed out, his knuckles meeting with something solid as he was still in the throes of his nightmare.

“Woah! Nice to meet you too, man,” came the reply as Jon finally broached consciousness.

The guy from earlier was splayed on the ground, again, this time rubbing his jaw.

“Fuck! I’m-I’m sorry,” Jon stuttered as he scrubbed a hand over his face trying to wake up. “Shit, did I do that?” he asked as he saw the blood seeping from a cut on the kid’s bottom lip.

“Uh huh,” he nodded, his tongue exploring the tear in the flesh on his lip, “Where’d you come from, kid?”

“My own personal hell,” Jon mumbled.

“Well, you’ll find yourself back in the pits of hell if you stay here,” the brunette said as he stood. “You’re lucky I recognised you and not one of the others. Name’s Richie, what’s your's kid?” 

He held his hand out to Jon and helped him up from the cold stoop.

“Jon,” he replied as he accepted the proffered hand and stood upright.

“Well Jonny, you’re in luck,” Richie hooked his arm around Jon’s neck and pulled him along. “My customer came back after the cops left, so once Al takes his cut, I’ll have a little left over.”

“Cut? Cut of what?” Jon asked enjoying the warmth of the older guy’s body beside him.

“Ha! Just how old are ya, Jonny?”

“Seventeen.”

“Old enough to figure it out then, kid.” Richie led him down an alleyway before saying, “Stay there, kid, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

He pushed Jon into a shadow and continued further toward a big black town car at the other entrance of the alley.

Jon peeked out from his spot trying not to get noticed. He didn’t know why he felt the need to hide but he thought it the prudent thing to do. He watched as an older, smaller man alighted from the back of the car. 

Cash exchanged hands and there seemed to be a slightly heated discussion over something as he saw Richie shaking his head and pointing back down toward Jon.

The older man slapped Richie in the face and pushed him to his knees. He unzipped himself and forced his cock into Richie’s mouth by gripping his hair tightly in one hand, the other holding his mouth open.

Jon wanted to run, nausea building quickly, the horrors from last night still fresh in his mind but he didn’t think he’d find his way back to the relative comfort of the shopfront. 

Besides, even though he didn’t know Richie, he somehow gave off an air of confidence and therefore, safety in Jon’s eyes. He couldn’t just leave him at the mercy of this man. 

As he was still debating with himself about his options, a groan came from the depths of the alley as the older man seemed to reach his climax. Richie was pushed away unceremoniously as the older man wiped himself off with a handkerchief and climbed into the back of the car which reversed from the alley.

He ran toward Richie who was sprawled on the pavement retching, dreading what he might find when he got there.

“Richie!” Jon yelled, skidding to a stop beside him, “What the fuck happened?! Are you okay?”

After the retching had subsided and he’d given one final spit into the gutter, Richie sat upright, arms on his knees and his head dropped between them, “Yeah,” he coughed, “yeah, kid. Don’t worry on my account. It’s not as though it hasn’t happened before.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, “Why haven’t you reported him or something?”

Richie snorted in derision, “Man, you don’t report your handler for the ass-kicking you get when you short-change him in your takings. Where did you come from, kid? The Land of Oz or something?!” He stood and started walking off.

He turned back and said, “Well?? You coming, kid? Or are you just going to sit there slack-jawed all night?” before striding off into the night.

Jon rose, his mind still reeling and took off at a jog to catch up. He walked along in silence for a while, accepting a cigarette when it was offered.

“I’m hungry,” Richie finally said as they walked toward a local diner, “Wanna share a meal, kid? My treat.”

“Sure, I guess,” Jon replied, “I-I can pay for my own though.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Richie waved him off, “I got a regular tomorrow night; he pays well for my talents.” He pushed through the door and the bell tinkled over their heads.

“Richie, honey,” the waitress greeted them, “Go on through, love, your table’s free.”

“Thanks, Rosie,” Richie flashed the older woman a smile that lit up the room and by the way Rosie blushed, it lit up the young woman she longed to be again. 

He walked through the tables to a booth at the back and slid into the side facing the door. Jon slid into the opposite seat just as Rosie walked up.

“What’ll it be, boys?” Rosie asked, looking curiously at Jon as she poured two cups of black coffee, “Your usual, love?”

“Make it two of the usual, thanks Rosie,” Richie said, “This hot piece is Jon. Jon, meet Rosie. The most beautiful woman in the city.”

“Oh, go on with you,” she giggled and playfully swatted him on the shoulder with her notepad. “You’re such a smooth talker, Richie Sambora. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jon, honey,” she smiled, “I’ll be right back with your order, boys.”

“You’re obviously a regular?” Jon asked after Rosie had walked off, “Do you live or work around here?” He wrapped his cold hands around the mug for warmth, not intending to drink it just yet.

“Live. Work. Same thing, kid,” Richie shrugged as he added four packets of sugar to his coffee and stirred.

“Can you stop calling me kid?! I’m not as young as what you seem to think I am,” Jon scowled, “I am seventeen, ya know!”

Richie scoffed, “Not even legal, so you’re still a kid.” He sat back and regarded Jon closely as he lit a cigarette. “Tell me your story, kid.”

He shook his head and stared into the inky blackness of the coffee, “Not before you tell me yours,” he said warily.

Richie drew back on his cigarette and blew the vapours up over Jon’s head, “Tell ya what? We’ll go question for question and we can see how it goes? You first.”

Jon nodded and took another sip of his coffee before asking, “Who was that guy? You called him your handler.”

“Boss. Handler. Pimp,” Richie shrugged, “He's a fucking piece of scum but that’s the way on the streets here. He books my regular clients and sends me to the streets when I don’t have anyone lined up.”

“You’re… you’re-,” Jon started to say.

“Their greatest pleasure or their dirty little secret,” Richie offered, “I’ll be whatever the client wants me to be.”

“How… how do you do that?”

“Nuh-uh, that’s two questions,” the brunette scolded, “My turn. Who you running from, kid? I promise,” he held his hands up and crossed his heart, “I’m the last person that’ll turn you over to the cops.”

Jon pursed his lips, frowning at the horror of his memories, and spoke venomously to the tabletop, “I think... no, I fucking hope I killed my foster father. Fucking cunt doesn’t deserve that title for what he and his fucking hellhound bitch did to me.”

“Daaamn, kid,” Richie exclaimed, “that sounds fucking heavy. Do I need to be worried, sittin’ here with you?”

“I dunno… you planning on forcing yourself on me every day? Wanting to fuck me? Or me to fuck you? Or suck my cock whenever you want to?” 

Jon lifted his cold, hard blue eyes up to meet the curious dark ones, a contemptuous sneer marring his good looks, “And if I dare protest, will you tie me up and do it anyway?” 

“Ahh shit, kid,” Richie murmured, “No wonder you freaked out in the alley.”

Rosie arrived and placed an order of burgers and fries in front of each of them. Sensing the tension between them, she eyed them curiously before asking, “Anything else I can get you, boys?”

Without even looking at the woman, holding Jon’s gaze steadily, “Nah, thanks, Rosie. Why don’t you go take your break?”

Rosie nodded slowly, “Okay, love. I’ll be out back if you need me. No funny stuff, y’hear me?”

“We’re just talking, Rosie,” Richie quickly flashed a reassuring smile her way.

Richie pushed a plate toward Jon and said, “Eat, kid. I ain’t gonna try anything. You got a plan or somewhere to stay?”

The anger and bitterness seemed to vanish as quickly as it appeared and Jon felt exhausted all of a sudden. He shook his head as he picked at his food.

“I just ran,” Jon sniffed, his emotions were starting to break through the walls he’d built up over the past year, “I ran and I didn’t look back. I just needed to get as far away as possible. I...I-”

“Listen, kid,” Richie interrupted, “if ya like, you can stay with me. Lie low for a few days and get yourself a plan.”

Jon looked up sharply, “Why would you do that? You… you don’t know me and I… I’ve probably killed someone.”

“Yeah, probably,” Richie nodded, “but from the sounds of it, he probably deserved it too.”

Silence fell over the table.

“I’m not offering anything permanent. You can take off whenever you want to,” Richie continued after the silence became omnipresent, “All I’m offering is a roof over your head and a couch with way too many springs to be too comfortable.”

“I’m not home at nighttime so you’d have the place to yourself and I never bring clients back there,” he said, “only the occasional date.”

“How… how do you do that?” Jon asked, “How do you separate the two?”

“Usually because I choose who I make love with,” Richie said, tapping his finger on the tabletop for emphasis, “Al might choose who I fuck, but I choose who I make love to.”

“Believe it or not… there’s a difference between a fuck and making love to, or better, with someone. I hope you get to realise that one day.”

As Richie ate his burger with gusto, Jon, on the other hand, was picking at his food. He was hungry but the preoccupation with his thoughts and memories made his stomach nervous about accepting food.

“Can I ask you something?” Jon asked as Richie pushed his empty plate away and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Shoot,” he nodded and balled the paper into a ball, throwing it onto his plate.

“Do you… are you… does it…” Jon felt the warmth of his blush rise from under his shirt, up his neck and colour his cheeks. He swallowed nervously. He took a sip of his cold coffee and tried again, the words tumbling out in a rush, “Are you gay? Does it feel good?”

Richie let a slow, dirty smile slide over his face, “Oh baby… it can hurt so good when you’re in the arms of the right person.”

“I can’t imagine it ever feeling good again.” Jon felt his body shut down slightly at the phantom pain of being forced open against his will.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Richie continued, “some of my clients tend to get a little rough sometimes. That ain’t pretty, but I know how to deal with them for the most part.”

“As for my gender preferences in partners,” he grinned, “it makes no difference. Does it matter to you if I’m gay or not?”

Jon looked up quickly and shook his head, “No! I don’t even know why I asked actually.”

“Sure you do. Natural curiosity,” Richie reached for his wallet and threw down some bills for the meals and a generous tip for Rosie, “C’mon… let me introduce you to my couch.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Now don’t expect anything spectacular,” Richie said to the runaway, “It’s only small, even with Al’s connections.”

**RICHIE**

“Now don’t expect anything spectacular,” Richie said to the runaway, “It’s only small, even with Al’s connections.” 

He turned the key and pushed open the door to let Jon go in first. Richie closed the door behind them both and turned the lock, watching Jon as he turned slowly to take in the small living room and kitchenette. 

Richie loved his little place and was proud that he was finally able to get off the street. He vowed to turn any trick that wanted him if it meant keeping his little slice of peace. 

He’d made the bare walls his own with posters of his favourite bands and his battered but totally awesome second-hand Strat sitting in pride of place next to the equally battered couch. He scurried around and picked up random pieces of clothes and dirty plates from the coffee table before coming back to grab the overflowing ashtray.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he said, “I wasn’t planning on an unexpected roommate.”

“You don’t have to clean up on my account,” Jon said as he set his meagre belongings down onto the couch, “Can I use your bathroom, though?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure,” Richie pointed through the bedroom door, “Just in there.”

Richie watched the cute blonde duck into the other room. 

He scrubbed his hand over his face and wondered what the fuck he was doing with this kid. Whatever...he couldn’t let him stay out on the streets. 

With his looks, he’d be eaten alive by the scum that preys on kids like him, which is one of the reasons he left him in the alley when he caught up with Alec to give him his money.

He grabbed a couple of beers from his fridge and went back to the living room, placing them on the coffee table and reaching for his guitar. Settling a cigarette between his lips, he turned on the small amp as Jon came back into the room.

“Sit,” Richie mumbled, already zoning out into his happy place as he played, “relax, have a drink.”

Jon sat in the opposite corner to Richie and took a long draught of his beer, visibly relaxing after a short while.

The next time Richie looked over, his guest was sound asleep, beer bottle precariously held upright in lax fingers. He continued to play a soft melody that he knew by heart while he looked at the younger man.

Dark shaggy blonde hair hung over his eyes; the bluest eyes he’d ever seen and he’d seen a few in his line of work. He had a wide, expressive mouth with a full bottom lip that looked good enough to feast upon. A smattering of chest hair peeked out from the neckline of his T-shirt that covered a neatly packaged torso leading down to the most deliciously slim hips.

Richie felt himself stir in his pants the more he looked at the sleeping beauty. He clamped his fingers over the strings to quiet them as much as he clamped down on his feelings for the same reason. He turned off the amp and set his guitar in its stand.

Taking the bottle from Jon’s fingers, he gently slipped a tatty cushion under his head. Richie gave in briefly to the urge and softly touched Jon’s cheek as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

To his horror, Richie could see the purpling bruises down the side of Jon’s neck that had been hidden by his hair. Spreading his fingers over them, he found them to be similarly placed as if a hand had been wrapped around his throat. It made him sick to his stomach that he was almost certain he’d find more under the clothes Jon wore.

“Ahh kid,” Richie whispered, “you’re safe now, you poor fuck.” 

Jon settled deeper in his sleep, smiled and mumbled something unintelligible.

With a sigh, Richie killed the light and closed the door to his bedroom. He stripped off his clothes and started the shower. He stepped under the hot spray and quickly washed off the night’s work and mulled over the little information that Jon had volunteered. 

He couldn’t quite figure out why he had the visceral compulsion to keep this one safe but he was never one to ignore his gut instincts; they had kept him alive for this long.

After drying his long hair as best he could, he flopped into his bed and lit a final cigarette, the flare of the lighter and cherry end glowing brightly in the darkness. He thought of how life sucked big time for some more than others; how some people don’t deserve to have kids in their lives, whether by choice, accident or design. 

His own parents had kicked him out when they caught him with an older man in their basement. 

Richie had snuck into one of the clubs in town one Saturday night and picked up a swarthy Cuban man with glorious dark hair and the sexiest voice, so deep that it rumbled through Richie when he took him deep into his mouth. 

His parents must have heard Tico as well, as they caught them with their pants down, literally and figuratively, just as Tico had pulled out and covered Richie’s face in hot ropes of come.

The things that haunted him was his mother’s high pitched wails of disgust and his father yelling at him to get out and never come back. An argument broke out between himself and his father about how he was supposed to be dating girls and finding a nice one to settle down with eventually, "Not being a cheap body for hire for one of _those_ men."

As Richie tried to explain about his sexual ambiguity and how sometimes he liked boys better than girls, “Sometimes I’d rather have a cock in my mouth, than mine in some girl’s”. 

His father knocked Richie to the ground with one well-aimed punch. 

Richie remembered laying dazed, flat out on the floor as Tico dressed quickly and escaped up the stairs and his horrified parents staring down at him. He stood slowly, testing his jaw as tears pricked the back of his eyes and fled to his room to pack his belongings. 

Without a second look, he walked out the front door and into the night.

He hadn’t spoken to them in five years. 

Every now and again in the early years of their separation, he would borrow a car and drive past his house to try and see his mother but it became too painful and the visits became less and less.

He stubbed out his cigarette and took his frustration out on his pillow, thumping it into shape before closing his eyes with a sigh knowing he’d probably end up dreaming about that night again. 

**~**

A knocking woke Richie the next morning, soft at first but becoming more insistent the longer it went on. It took him a little while to remember that he wasn’t alone.

“Yeah?” Richie croaked sleepily.

“Umm..bathroom?” Jon asked, his voice muffled by the door.

“Sure,” he replied, “C’mon in.”

The door cracked open and Jon stuck his head around it, “Sorry. I didn’t know when you’d wake up.” He glanced at Richie then looked firmly at the ceiling.

“Fuck, kid,” Richie grumbled, “if you’re gonna live here, then stop fucking apologising to me for everything. You gotta take a dump or whatever, then just do it, okay?” He softened his word with a quick smile.

Jon nodded, avoiding looking at Richie and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Richie frowned at Jon’s reaction then remembered he slept naked. He looked down and scrubbed a hand over his face when he saw the sizable tenting of the sheet tangled around his legs. He stretched the kinks out, groaning in appreciation as his joints popped and cracked. He reached for a cigarette and lit one, sitting up against the headboard as the bathroom door opened. Richie grabbed a pillow and put it in his lap for modesty sake.

“Jonny,” Richie said as the blonde started to scurry from the room, “take a seat, kid,” he nodded to the end of his bed and offered Jon a cigarette.

“Let’s work out some rules so that we’re both comfortable, okay?” He held out his lighter, flame already lit.

Jon nodded and lit his smoke still not able to look at Richie. “I don’t want to get in your way,” he said after taking a draw into his lungs.

“You’re not in my way,” Richie said, scratching at his face, “I wouldn’t have brought you back here if I thought you’d get in my way, kid.” He placed the ashtray on the bed between them. 

“I’m a pretty heavy sleeper,” Richie continued, “so if you need the bathroom, just do it, okay? The only times it might get awkward is if I’m already on the can or if I got a date. If that’s the case, then you gotta hold it or try Mrs Murphy down the hallway.”

Jon nodded.

“I should have warned you that I slept naked though,” Richie chuckled, “Forewarned for tomorrow morning though, right? How you want to dress while sleeping is your business.”

“I don’t even remember falling asleep last night,” Jon said. “You’re right, your couch has a few bad spots but for the first time in almost a year, I haven’t woken with a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach.”

“Good!” Richie nodded, “You can stay here for as long, or as little as you want. Do you have any idea what you want to do?”

“I want to get a job,” Jon said, “so I can contribute my share. I have some money...but it won’t last long.”

“Don’t sweat it for the moment, kid,” he said, “I’ll ask around tonight about any jobs but I can afford to spring for a meal here and there. Can you cook?”

“A little,” Jon nodded. He’d been forced to cook most evening meals at the house of horrors unless it was a night that he’d bought home cash from one of his ‘jobs’.

“Even better,” Richie smiled and threw his legs over the side of the bed and walked into the bathroom. 

He didn’t bother closing the door as he stood at the toilet, cigarette dangling from his lips, and emptied his bladder noisily. He could see Jon’s face reflected in the mirror, trying not to stare. He flushed when he was finished and quickly washed his hands.

“You got any other clothes in that backpack of yours?” Richie asked, reaching for a pair of sweats that had seen better days but they were comfortable. He caught the little flare of curiosity in Jon’s blue eyes as he finally caught a full-frontal glimpse at Richie’s dick before he pulled the pants up.

“Just a couple of shirts,” Jon said, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray, “I wasn’t really thinking of fashion when I took off.”

“Just asking, kid,” he said, pulling on a t-shirt, “You can borrow some of mine. The pants might be a bit long in the leg. Just until you get a job and can buy some more.”

“We’ll head to the grocery store later and buy a few things. I can cook a little but you’ll get tired of scrambled eggs and cheese toast after a while. I know I do.”

“But first...coffee!” 

Richie left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen with a groan, “I’m coming, Coffee, my love.”

**~**

A few hours later they walked out of the grocery store with a couple of bags of basic necessities. Richie had shown Jon around the neighbourhood as they walked back to their apartment.

“So how long have you been playing the guitar?” Jon asked.

“Oh god, seems like forever…,” Richie replied, “I think I pestered mom for about a year when I was about 7 or eight? Finally got one, just a cheap one, for Christmas that year.”

“Did you have lessons?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I sat and figured everything out for myself. Probably drove the parents nuts with listening to the same records over and over again until I figured it out.”

“What about you, kid?” Richie asked, “Play anything?”

“No,” Jon shook his head, “Never had the opportunity.”

“I could teach you some,” Richie offered, “if you want me to, of course.”

“Really?! That would be awesome,” Jon said excitedly, “I...I have some lyrics...well, just words really…”

“Hey just ‘words’ can make the best lyrics,” Richie smiled.

“I...I could show you...” Jon stammered.

“Sure, kid,” Richie said, throwing his arm around Jon’s neck as they walked. 

They rounded the corner and Richie stopped suddenly almost choking Jon who’d kept walking.

“Kid, this is your lucky day.” He slapped Jon in the centre of his chest and pointed to a sign in a window then to the sign above the door.

He watched as Jon’s eyes, those stunning cobalt blue eyes, lit up in the most magical way, with hope and dreams of a brighter future as he read the Help Wanted sign in the window.

“Here,” Richie said and took the groceries Jon was holding, “gimme those and go in. Apply for the job, kid. I got a good feeling about this.”

With a nervous puff of breath and a quick grin, Jon headed into the shop. 

Richie wasn’t lying when he said he had a good feeling. There was just something about this kid that he felt was going to change the world, maybe even change his world. He shook himself mentally at how quickly he’d accepted this young stranger into his life.

He lit a cigarette and waited patiently in the sunshine. He leaned up against the building as he usually does, one leg bent beneath him, as he watched the passing foot traffic as they eyed him off as well. 

He smiled at the pretty girls and winked at the good looking guys. Even got a booking for later in the week from one older guy.

A few minutes later he was pounced upon by an exuberant Jon.

“I got it!” he cried, “I got the job, Rich!” He threw his arms around him in a fiercely happy hug.

Richie’s stomach fluttered a little at Jon using his shortened name.

“That’s great, kid!” Richie hugged him back, holding on just that little bit longer than necessary, letting his natural scent permeate his nose. “Let’s stop and get a six-pack of cheap beer to celebrate.”

“My treat! Oh,” Jon chuckled, “you’ll have to go in to buy it though.”

“I think I can manage that,” Richie smiled back at him.

Later that night as they made a quick meal of spaghetti Bolognese and nursed their beers to make them last, Richie regaled Jon with some happier stories of his childhood, ones that didn’t hurt his heart to tell.

“Yeah, well that’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” Richie grinned at the end of one story. He looked at his watch and swore, “Fuck, I gotta get ready. I gotta meet Al in half an hour.”

“Will he hurt you again?” Jon asked with a frown. “I..I could go with you again if you want me to?”

“Nah,” Richie waved him off, “Al knows I’ll make it up tonight. But hey, thanks.” Richie smiled at the blonde, genuinely touched that someone cared enough to worry about him. “I’m just gonna jump in the shower. Leave the dishes, I’ll fix them up later,” he waved generally around the small kitchen.

“Oh,” Jon nodded, “umm..okay.”

Richie quickly showered and dressed for the night; tight, faded jeans, no underwear to show his impressive dick to its advantage as it lay down beside his thigh, snug shirt with an open neckline with his crucifix glinting against his bare chest. He fluffed his drying hair and gave it a generous dose of hairspray. He quickly rimmed his eyes with liner and a dab of clear gloss over his lips.

He came out to find Jon perched on the sofa in front of the television looking as though he was ready to leave the second he should be asked to. Jon turned to look over his shoulder. 

Richie wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught a look of interest in those blue eyes of his as they flicked him up and down. Did he even know he’d done that, Richie wondered, or that he’d bitten down on his bottom lip a little?

“Okay, I’m outta here for the rest of the night. Don’t wait up,” Richie said as he pulled on his shoes, “There’s a pillow and blankets in the closet, towels too. Help yourself to any clothes for tomorrow too, kid.”

“Thanks, Richie,” Jon replied, “For everything.”

His tone made Richie look up and smile, “Don’t sweat it, kid. It’s nice to have some company for a change.” 

He tied the last shoelace and stood, grabbing his house keys and wallet, “Remember...just use the bathroom in the morning whether I’m asleep or not. Have a good night, kid, and good luck for tomorrow.”

Jon gave him a wide grin and a nod, “Thanks...I’m a bit nervous.”

“You’ll be fine,” he replied and opened the door, “I got that feeling, remember?! G’night.”

**~**

Richie strolled down the same alley as last night and stopped at the door of the black town car again. The door opened and Alec stepped out, pulling his shorter frame up as tall as possible against the younger man.

“Richie,” he started, “Nice to see you finally turned up.”

Richie checked his watch, “I’m only a few minutes late, Al, gimme a break.”

“Shortchanged me last night,” Al said with a push to Richie’s chest, “and late tonight. Are you gonna make any more trouble for me, Sambora?”

“Aww c’mon, Al,” he replied, “you know The Mayor will make up for it.”

“Speaking of which, he’s expecting you in half an hour,” Al said, checking his watch, “Usual place, time and money. No funny business, Sambora, or I’ll fuck your ass so hard, you won’t shit for a week.”

“Right, on my way,” Richie nodded and started walking away, “See you back here later.”

**~**

Richie returned to his apartment around four in the morning. He let himself in as quietly as possible and saw Jon face down on the couch, his arm falling over the edge. Richie’s stomach flipped a little at the innocent sight. 

He felt dirty and sullied in comparison, something he’d never acknowledged before tonight. It disturbed him a little. He leaned against the door and slowly slipped to the floor as he mulled it over. 

Reaching into a pocket on his jeans, he pulled out a blunt and lit it, something he usually did every night anyway but he usually sat and noodled around on his guitar while he smoked it. He’d have to get used to a new routine for a little while, he shrugged.

He leaned forward and reached for the ashtray that was usually stashed under the edge of the couch but it wasn’t there. 

Frowning, he looked around the living room in the bleak early morning light. There was something wrong in his apartment. 

It was clean! 

No, not just clean; the living room was fucking spotless. No clothes lying around, no empty beer cans or food containers. The ashtray was clean and sitting in the middle of the coffee table. What the fuck?!!

The detritus of his messed up life was now straight and tidy. 

Richie scrabbled to his feet and stepped into the small kitchen. He was sure that if they were in a cartoon there’d be sparkles coming off every surface. The place hadn’t been this clean even before he moved in. With a final drag on the blunt, he licked his fingers and extinguished what was left of it and tucked it behind his ear.

“Richie?” Jon said sleepily.

“Yeah, kid,” Richie said softly, “go back to sleep. It’s only 4 am.” 

He didn’t dare go back into the living room even though he wanted to know why Jon had felt like he needed to clean the place. For some reason, it had bought a prickle of tears to his eyes. Not angry tears from someone messing with his stuff but it was that warm, fuzzy feeling he had before he left earlier tonight.

“‘Kay,” Jon mumbled and was soon sleeping peacefully again.

Richie peeked around the doorway and padded into his bedroom and closed the door gently. He stripped out of his clothes, wrinkling his nose at the stench of sex that came from his jeans before hanging them on the doorknob. He’d deal with that later.

He slipped under the shower for the second time that night and quickly washed and cleaned his teeth, wincing when he saw in the mirror some of the bite marks that the Mayor had left behind. 

He had been right. The Mayor had paid handsomely, again, for his services and his silence but not before using Richie thoroughly. Al was more than pleased. So much so, that he sent him out on the street for another couple of hours. 

He was bone tired now though, so he crawled into bed and was almost asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. His last fleeting thoughts were of the younger, good-looking blonde in his living room. Oh fuck, he thought, I’m doomed.

He heard nothing for the next couple of hours until he heard movement in the bathroom. He lay with his eyes closed, listening to the shower run as unbidden imaginings of Jon all wet and soapy teased his consciousness. He shifted restlessly, willing his morning erection into submission. 

With a huff of frustration, he rolled over onto his stomach to save any embarrassment like yesterday. When the shower had stopped, he tried to get his breathing to even out before Jon opened the door. 

Richie waited until Jon had almost reached the bedroom door before taking a peek. 

What he saw made his stomach turn; his own bite marks were nothing in comparison to the bruises and scars, some reasonably fresh, he saw over Jon’s back as he retreated to the living room.

Dear god! What did those people do to him? He vowed to get the whole truth out of him tonight, even if it put their new friendship into jeopardy, so he can help put things right. 

Then he made the mistake of visualising the trim little body beneath those scars and bruises. Richie, frustrated and just a little horny, huffed into his pillow before rolling over again. He stared at the ceiling as his hand trailed down his stomach and loosely wrapped his fingers around his insistent cock. He figured he wasn’t going to get any sleep until he’d taken care of things as he opened the spank-bank in his mind and drew on his usually reliable fantasies. 

This morning, however, was a different story until Jon flitted across his mind’s eye and he felt his stomach cave in on itself in lust and he was able to quickly rub out a quick, but oddly satisfying orgasm. He lay there basking in the bliss of his climax as the final tremors shook his limbs when the sounds from outside his bedroom door made themselves known. 

With a weary sigh, he got up and walked into the bathroom. He took a much-needed piss and washed his hands before pulling on the sweatpants he used yesterday, not bothering with a shirt, and opened the bedroom door. He leaned up against the doorframe and lit a cigarette, the click and hiss drawing Jon’s attention to him.

“Oh shit! Did I wake you?” Jon asked. He was in the kitchen making some toast, the alluring aroma of coffee drawing Richie further in. 

“Nah, man,” Richie croaked, “needed to piss anyway. I’ll grab a nap later.” He wandered over to the coffee, grabbed a mug and poured the life-giving liquid into it.

“Hey listen, kid,” Richie said as Jon spread his toast with peanut butter, “I noticed you’d been busy last night. You didn’t have to clean the whole place. Just the dishes would have been enough.”

“Oh,” Jon frowned at first before a mask of nothingness fell across his face and he started nervously tearing at the bread in his fingers, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch your stuff-”

“I’m not pissed off, Jonny,” Richie cut him off quickly and stepped closer to the boy, “I was going to thank you for it, actually.”

“Oh...okay,” Jon said, “I...it’s what I had to do at...at the last place.” He took a tiny bite of his now cooling toast, finally looking at Richie. His eyes widened when he saw the bites on his neck and shoulders. “Did Al do that?” he asked and pointed to the purpling bruises.

“Hmm?” Richie queried then slapped his hand over his neck when he remembered, “Oh! No...the piece-of-shit customer. But, hey, he paid well!” He stayed close to Jon, standing with his hip cocked against the worn countertop.

Jon nodded but kept eating his toast, sliding his eyes over Richie’s bare torso every now and again.

“Oh fuck,” Jon exclaimed when he looked at the clock, “I didn’t realise the time. I don’t wanna be late on my first day.” He tossed out the rest of his toast and started wiping down the counter before Richie placed his hand over Jon’s.

Richie chose to ignore the spark that zapped through him as their hands met and said, “Leave that. I’ll clean up this time. Go. But I wanna talk tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Jon said softly, looking up into Richie’s eyes and reluctantly pulled his hand out from beneath Richie’s, “Thanks.”

Richie watched as Jon grabbed his wallet and jacket before reaching for the doorknob, “Will you be awake when I get home?”

Richie smiled and nodded, “I’ll make sure I am. I won’t leave you out in the cold, baby, not ever.” 

Oh shit! Where the fuck did that 'baby' come from? But the smile he got from Jon made the brief moment of panic so worthwhile. 

Now that smile he could get addicted to, he thought as Jon closed the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jon**

Jon closed the door, shutting the very intriguing view of Richie’s bare chest from his eyes. He jogged down the stairs and out onto the street, walking swiftly toward a brighter future.

He was curious about his new friend. His life, his lifestyle, his...job, if you can call it that.

Jon had only been on the receiving end of the horror of sex with a man and even his experiences with women hadn’t been much better. So, at an age when most guys would be itching to get into the pants of anyone willing he’d made a vow that the person would have to be extra special for him to even contemplate having sex with them.

It didn’t stop him appreciating a good body though. He’d figured out a couple of years ago, before Hell House, that he was bi when he’d started fantasising about both guys and girls from one of his many schools. 

He’d also experimented, physically. Just sloppy kisses and fumbles in the dark but it was enough to figure out that he had no issue with the gender of who he was with at the time.

He rounded the corner and stopped in front of the store and looked up at the sign above the door. 

**_Rashbaum Music Est. 1932._**

Jon took a deep breath and pushed through the door and into another world. He let his eyes adjust from the glare of outside to the darker interior. He stood for a moment and took it in. 

The music felt as though it wrapped its arms around him in a warm, welcoming hug, the neon signs on the walls twinkled against the exposed brick of the walls as the energy of the store infused him. 

To one side of the store was an array of shelving stocked to overflowing with vinyl LP's, sheet music, posters and collectibles. The other side sparkled with shiny brass instruments and the glossed wood of guitars, violins and cellos surrounding the masterpiece of a baby grand piano.

“Can I help you?” a voice from behind Jon startled him.

Looking at Jon curiously from behind the counter was a guy similar in age to himself with wildly curly hair and huge glasses.

“Umm, yeah, I think so,” Jon nodded, “I’m Jon and I was told to start today. I saw...Eddie, I think...yesterday.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you, Jon. I’m David,” the guy almost jumped the counter and thrust his hand out at Jon, “Eddie’s my dad. He’s not here at the moment but told me you were starting today. Here, I’ll show you around.” 

Jon had to chuckle to himself at the speed at which David was talking. He was like a hyperactive Chihuahua as he led him through the store, pointing things out, explaining how the store worked and showing him where to store his stuff.

“So I’ll show you the ropes today,” David said, “then tomorrow you’ll be on your own until I get back in the afternoon. Where do you go to school?”

“Um I don’t,” Jon shrugged, “I’m kind of a dropout, I guess.” David had a guileless demeanour about him so Jon felt comfortable enough to at least give him some half-truths.

“Awesome!” David exclaimed, “I’m off to Julliard next year. Already been accepted, too. The ‘rents are proud so that’s the main thing, right?!”

“I guess…” Jon mumbled.

“What about your folks?” David bounced on, “What did they say about you dropping out? Were they mad? Mine would have been! Dad would have kicked my ass from here to oblivion if I ever said I’d dropped out.”

Jon swallowed over the bile that quickly rose in his throat. He shook his head and said, “They...they don’t know.”

“Oh? How do you plan on keeping that kinda news from them?”

“They’re dead," he said curtly. Or the Hell Hounds are to me, at least, Jon thought to himself.

“Fuck!” David cursed softly, “Shit man, I’m...I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t upset you?”

Jon shook his head and said, “Nah...you’re okay, man.”

David was an easy guy to like; open and friendly and as funny as fuck, making the day pass quickly. Eddie had arrived at the store mid-morning and greeted both boys warmly.

Jon could see the absolute love and humble pride Eddie had for David. The two Rashbaums shared a wicked sense of humour which had Jon laughing easily.

“David,” Eddie said to his son as they were restocking the shelves, “why don’t you take Jon out and show him the best place for lunch around here.” He slipped a $20 into David’s hand with a smile, “Back in half an hour though.”

“Only half an hour?” David groaned, “That’s not enough time to flirt…I mean, order from that cute waitress at the diner.”

Eddie chuckled, “Okay, an hour. But don’t tell your mother and don’t ruin your dinner.”

“Yess!” David exclaimed, “Thanks, dad! C’mon Jon. Let me introduce you to Becky.” David snatched Jon by the elbow and dragged him out of the store.

Becky had turned out to be a cute, well-endowed, young woman in her mid-twenties who indulged David’s attempts to peer down her cleavage with a wink and a smile.

“So how long has your dad had the store?” Jon asked as they ate their lunch.

“He took over from my grandfather about fifteen years ago,” David said through a mouthful of fries, “It hadn’t been doing so good since all it held were records from pre-war years...or that’s what it seemed to be anyway.” 

He sipped on his coke and swallowed the food before continuing, “Then dad updated everything and restocked it. Started selling instruments as well as records and such. It started taking off. So now, every five years or so, he refurbishes the store to keep it current.”

“Makes sense,” Jon nodded then took a bite of his sandwich.

Jon was aware of David’s eyes on him as they ate in companionable silence. It kind of made him a little uneasy but he pushed it away for now knowing that it was easier to keep anyone at a distance for the moment in case he was found out and he had to move on quickly.

He’d found it hard to make long-lasting friendships in the multiple schools he’d attended and usually when he did, it seemed he’d get uprooted to another foster family. 

The reasons varied from place to place but it was usually because most couples wanted younger kids or babies or they’d found themselves pregnant with their own child so they didn’t want an outsider in their now perfect lives.

Some separations hurt more than others and so he’d learned to steel his heart against feeling anything for anyone, closing himself off to the hurt and the anger of being forcibly removed from what he’d hoped to be his own family one day. The longest he’d lasted in a foster family was two years, six months and 5 days. Not that he’d kept a note of that kind of stuff.

“So Jon,” David startled him out of his thoughts, “any girlfriends on the scene?”

“No,” Jon said gruffly.

“Oh! Okay,” David said, “so any boyfriends then? Coz that’s cool too, man.”

The food in his mouth had suddenly become like sawdust as unbidden images of his foster father on that last night flashed like a lightning bolt through his head. Jon grunted in physical pain, squeezing his eyes shut against them.

He forced himself to swallow the food. He got it down with great difficulty and gulped at his coke to wash it away.

“Not interested in either,” he managed to say. He wiped at his mouth with the napkin before balling it up on the plate, “Um...thanks for lunch but I’m gonna head back to the store.” He slid from the seat, stood and quickly made for the exit.

“Hey…hey Jon,” David scrambled to stand up, throwing the cash on the table as he raced after Jon. “Jon, hold up, man!”

Jon hunkered down into his jacket, stuffing his hands in the pockets as he strode down the street. 

David caught up with him eventually and shoulder bumped him, and said, “Fuck man, I didn’t mean to upset you...just trying to get to know you. I’m sorry, okay?”

Jon nodded and gave him a small smile in acceptance of the apology.

“Yeah well,” Jon shrugged, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Sure...sure,” David nodded as they kept walking back to the store.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Jon tried to quiet the niggle of unease that scratched between his shoulder blades from their lunchtime conversation.

He didn’t blame David for the questions he asked; he blamed himself for reacting so badly to them. He made a point to be more friendly toward him, to make up for his foul mood.

When it was time to leave for the day, Eddie gave him his days’ pay. 

“See you tomorrow morning Jon. I hope David didn’t talk your ear off too much?”

“Nah,” Jon waved him off, “He was okay. I learned a lot from him today, actually.”

“He doesn’t have a lot of friends at school because of his piano practice,” Eddie said, “So it’ll be nice for him to have someone else to talk to.”

They chatted as Eddie tallied the register and tidied the store for the next morning, explaining to Jon every step he did. David had gone home mid-afternoon for piano lessons so Jon and his father could speak freely.

“We have something in common then,” Jon replied, “I moved around a lot so I never had a lot of friends either.”

“Davy did say something to that effect,” Eddie frowned as he set the alarm and locked the doors.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie rattled the doors to check their surety, “he felt bad that he’d upset you at lunch.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Jon shook his head and changed the subject, “Same again tomorrow?”

“Yes!” Eddie nodded and looked at his watch, “Oh goodness, I’m going to be late. Are you right to get home?”

“Uh-huh. See ya tomorrow.”

Eddie waved and walked the half block to his car. Jon turned the opposite way and started the half-hour trek back to Richie’s place.

He stopped to buy a pizza to share with Richie from the store around the corner that Richie had pointed out yesterday. Jon was tired and hungry and all he wanted to do was crash in front of the television and eat some delicious smelling pizza. His stomach grumbled loudly.

Jon walked up the four flights of stairs then down the small hallway to Richie’s place. He twisted the knob and pushed open the door

“Hey, Rich, I bought-.”

”What the- Kid!” Richie exclaimed, ”Fuck, shut the door!” 

Jon slammed the door closed in surprise, leaving himself and the pizza on the outside and Richie and the person he was fucking on the couch, on the inside.

Jon leant against the wall near the door and slid down to the floor. Richie had been sprawled, naked on the couch, legs spread as his date, Jon presumed, rode his cock up and down.

Jon hadn’t even seen if it was male or female as the surprise of bursting in on them and the haze of sweet-smelling smoke clouded his vision.

He sat in the hallway with the rapidly cooling pizza in his lap as the unmistakable sounds of the couple in the throes of sex filtered over the strains of Jimi Hendrix on the record player.

Jon pulled a slice of pizza out and nibbled on it while he waited. He fidgeted where he sat as the aural painting of what was happening behind closed doors was being displayed vividly in his mind. He hated the fact that he was getting turned on by listening to the slap of flesh on flesh and desperate moans and curses.

His eyes drooped as time wore on. He hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep until the whoosh of the opening door startled him awake. He looked up to see Richie and an older, dark-haired guy kissing. Richie’s hair was damp and he held a towel around his waist as his shaggy-haired date pushed him up against the doorframe.

“Thanks for the fuck, baby.”

“It’s been too long, Nikki,” Richie smiled and licked his swollen lips, “I’m glad I saw you…” Richie pulled Nikki down for another dental inspection.

Jon had to turn away; his face being level with their grinding pelvis’.

“Mmmfuck,” Nikki groaned against Richie’s mouth, “I gotta go. I’ll call you.” He turned away from Richie, only glancing at Jon as he skimmed down the stairs. Richie leaned over the bannister watching the other man leave, giving Jon a view beneath the towel as he leaned forward.

“You gonna sit there looking at my ass all night, kid,” Richie said without turning around, “or you gonna bring that pizza inside so we can eat?” This time he did turn and with a wink, snatched the pizza from Jon’s lap and headed inside.

Jon roused himself, pushing himself to his feet and went inside the apartment. He shut the door behind him but this time he was on the inside. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of sex mingled with the sweetness of the dope. 

The pizza box was open on the coffee table and Richie reappeared from his bedroom shaking his legs down a pair of tight jeans, not bothering to do up the zipper. Jon took his jacket off, throwing it over the back of the sofa as he walked through to the kitchen to snag a coke from the fridge.

“Mmm,” Richie mumbled, swallowing a mouthful of pizza, “sorry ‘bout that, Jonny. I ran into Nikki this afternoon and...well...you saw how it all turned out.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Jon asked. He cracked the can open and took a long drink of the sugary bubbles.

“Was. We were hot and heavy for a while,” Richie nodded as he flopped back onto the couch where Jon had seen him earlier. “He moved out west and we lost touch. I saw him in his old neighbourhood today.” He leaned back against the cushions and scratched at his lower belly with a dreamy, self-satisfied smile. “God, I think he drained me of every bodily fluid. Gonna make things interesting tonight at work.”

“Oh! You’re still working tonight?” Jon asked.

“Fuck, yeah, kid,” Richie nodded and grabbed another slice of cold pizza, “Money’s too good to pass it up.”

He watched as Richie relit the end of the discarded joint in the ashtray, taking a deep draw on it and holding it in his lungs.

“This morning you said you wanted to talk,” Jon said sitting on the floor near the coffee table. 

“Oh yeah…” Richie said, squinting through the dense smoke as he released it slowly. “I seem to remember we had a quid pro quo deal. You owe me an answer or two.” He held out the joint to Jon in a silent offer.

“Okay…” Jon said warily and took the cigarette, “What do you wanna know?” 

He drew the smoke into his lungs just as Richie had done, resisting the urge to cough. He released it soon after, though not as smoothly as Richie’s release and washed it down with a gulp from his coke. His head started to feel a little woozy and his limbs loosened up. It felt like a relief after working all day.

“I wanna know what happened, kid,” Richie asked, pinning him with lazy but watchful eyes.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Jon handed the joint back across the table.

“Yeah?! Like fuck you don't!” Richie spat as he sat forward taking it from Jon’s fingers, “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, kid. Tell me.”

Jon fell silent as he contemplated answering, his anxiety increasing to critical levels.

“Jonny…” Richie said softly, “I saw your back this morning.”

Jon looked up sharply. “I thought you were sleeping…”

“Yeah, well, it seems it’ll take a couple of days to get used to someone being in my place again,” Richie shrugged, “Tell me...please.”

Jon didn’t know whether it was the dope or Richie’s earnest plea that made him start talking. Or the fact that he’d kept it bottled up for so long, that once that Pandora’s Box was opened he knew there was no going back. 

“My...my last foster place…,” he started and he didn’t stop until he’d purged himself of all the horrors he’d survived, finishing where they’d started their conversation the other day. 

Richie sat unmoving through the whole sorry saga, passing the blunt back and forth between the two of them. 

“Show me,” Richie asked softly.

Jon had fallen silent finally, hot, angry tears falling from his chin to the floor. Again, Jon looked up quickly. Richie didn’t say anything else but held Jon’s gaze steadily and nodded.

Swiping his hand across his nose, Jon stood and with shaking fingers, gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off. His front was littered with scratches and burn marks, healed and still healing but when he turned around, Jon heard Richie’s gasp at the extent of bruising from numerous beatings. He unbuttoned his pants and let them drop, exposing his flanks, crisscrossed with belt marks.

“Oh baby,” Richie whimpered from behind him, “What the fuck did they do to you?!”

He was startled when he felt Richie’s arms around him from behind. 

He struggled in the embrace as he relived some past horrors in his mind, but settled as Richie held him tight and soothed him through his tears as the anger, hurt and betrayal finally broke through his well constructed walls and came spewing forth. 

Jon held on tight to the stranger who’d taken him in and made him feel safer and more valued in less than 72 hours than what he’d ever felt in his miserable life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Richie**

After the emotionally charged night that saw Jon laying bare not only his scars and bruises but the raw and bleeding centre of his being and his wasted and withered heart, Richie and Jon fell into an easy friendship and living arrangement. 

There hadn’t been a repeat of that disastrous night since. Richie had always made sure that any dates, with Nikki or anyone else, had left before Jon woke in the mornings or came home for the evening. 

Jon never dated and Richie never pushed the point either. He knew the kid was so emotionally scarred, it would take him a while to come around to the idea of intimacy.

He’d been teaching Jon how to play the guitar and had worked with him to help put music to some of his lyrics.

Richie hung around the music store when he could and became friendly with David and Eddie, too. Eddie had let him try out some of the guitars he had for sale which had him as excited as a kid at Christmas. 

He and Jon would play some well-known songs and some of their stuff in the store sometimes with David joining in on the keyboard. Eddie praised them all highly, offering suggestions as needed. They’d even had customers applaud their efforts.

Whether Jon was awake or not, Richie actually enjoyed having someone to come home to every night. They’d become their own family of sorts.

They would cook simple meals together usually standing around the kitchen or chilling in front of the television or even better, smoking a joint and shooting the breeze while Richie played.

Then Jon had let it slip one night that his birthday was coming up soon. So Richie organised with Al to have the night off and had a plan of taking Jon out to his favourite club.

**~~**

Richie couldn’t wait to see the look on Jon’s face as he snuck his present into the apartment the morning of Jon’s birthday.

He’d worked a deal with Eddie to buy Jon his own guitar; he saved up and paid it off over a number of weeks. It was a cheap acoustic but Eddie had assured him that it was a good value for the money he'd spent. 

It was almost five in the morning and after setting the guitar behind the couch that Jon still slept on, Richie closed the door of the apartment. 

He stared at the blonde as he snored softly, sleeping soundly, and smiled at the familiar warmth that spread through his chest when it came to Jon. He often mused to himself as to whether it was a protective big brother kind of feeling or something a little more. 

That thought alone brought its own dilemma. 

Did he, or in fact, did Jon want that kind of relationship? He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to Jon and he'd found himself fantasising about him more and more.

As hard as he tried not to, Jon’s blue eyes and wide smile seemed to haunt his dreams. He was lucky that most of the times he’d woken up hard and wanting from those dreams, Jon had already been at work so he could use the rapidly fading dream to masturbate to.

He mentally shook himself then knelt down beside the sofa. He took a moment to gently swipe some hair out of Jon’s face and tuck it behind his ear as he had done those short few months ago before he started to shake Jon awake. 

“Jon...Jonny,” Richie said, “Wake up, kid.”

“Hmm...go ‘way,” Jon grumbled and swatted at Richie’s hand.

“Dude,” he said, already hating himself for what he was about to do, “You slept in. You’re gonna be late.”

“Oh fuck!” Jon gasped and sat up instantly, smacking Richie in the nose with his shoulder, “What time is it?”

“Shit! What is it about you smacking me in the face, kid?” Richie chuckled. “I should know by now not to get too close when you’re sleeping. It’s not even five in the morning.”

“Then why’d ya wake me, asshole?” Jon whined and buried his face back into the pillow. “Go ‘way, Rich.”

“Nope,” Richie said. “Not before I give you your birthday present.” He jumped up and retrieved the badly wrapped guitar from behind the couch. 

Jon sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, his jaw snapping at the ferocity of the yawn.

“I know that, dumbass,” Richie scoffed, “but I wanted to.” 

He thrust the gift into Jon’s lap and watched, nervously nibbling on his thumbnail as Jon looked between the guitar and Richie. Jon’s mouth gaped like a fish and Richie had to smile.

“No! No way, dude!” Jon exclaimed excitedly and ripped open the paper wrapping. He looked at the guitar, reverently running his fingers over the strings as a single tear tracked down his cheek. He untangled his legs from the blanket and set the guitar aside gently before launching himself at Richie and hugging him tightly. “I love it,” Jon said hoarsely, “thank you.”

Richie buried his nose in Jon’s hair and hugged him back, probably slightly longer than necessary but it felt good and right before replying softly, “You’re welcome, baby.”

With a pat on Jon’s back, he moved away reluctantly to sit with his back against the couch. “So?! Are you gonna try it out?” he asked.

“Oh yeah!” Jon grinned and reached for the present, settling himself beside Richie on the floor and started strumming a tune. He’d learned quickly and he practised every night when Richie was out working.

“It doesn’t sound too bad,” Richie nodded, “You’ve been practising too!”

“Uh-huh!” Jon smiled happily, “I don’t have much else to do at night.” 

Richie smiled as he watched Jon closing his eyes and lose himself in the music. He was startled when Jon started singing along to what he was playing. He was good, really good, so he let him go for a short while before he matched his voice with Jon’s. 

Jon turned those blue eyes his way and smiled as he sang. It was then that Richie realised he was doomed.

With his heart pounding at the thought, he stood abruptly and stalked to the kitchen. He fumbled for his cigarettes and lit one with shaky fingers. He braced his hands against the sink and dropped his head down as he let the realisation hit at how much this kid had gotten under his skin.

“Rich?” Jon called, “You okay?”

_Fuck no! I’m not okay… I think I’m in love with you, kid!_ Richie thought to himself.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Yeah, kid. Just need my coffee.” Richie sighed and pushed away from the sink and turned to the coffee machine to load it up.

“Oh! Okay then,” Jon said, his voice closer than before. Richie turned to see him in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m gonna jump in the shower,” Jon said hesitantly, “unless… unless you want it first?”

“Go for it, kid,” Richie said, “I got breakfast to make for the birthday boy anyway.”

“Ooh! Is it your pancakes??” Jon asked excitedly. “They’re amazing. I'd kiss you if it is!” 

Richie looked at him sharply as his stomach flipped and Jon snapped his jaws shut, blushing furiously.

“Umm… I’m… I’m gonna hit the shower now,” Jon stammered and turned on his heels and fled into the bathroom.

_Oh yeah… I’m so screwed,_ Richie thought, _even if I wasn’t going to make pancakes, I would anyway after that comment._

He set to work on the pancakes to keep his mind from wandering into the bathroom and had a decent stack cooked by the time Jon had emerged from the shower with a towel wrapped around his head.

“Oh god they smell good,” Jon moaned. “I’m starved.”

“Then sit down,” Richie said and slid a plate toward Jon who almost fell on the stack and devoured a good portion of them.

“Fuck, kid, slow down,” Richie chuckled as he stood on the other side of the counter, “Anyone would think you worked up an appetite in the shower.”

Jon almost choked on the mouthful and started coughing. His face had turned a lovely shade of pink. Richie had to wonder if it was from the food lodged halfway down his throat or if he’d been found out as Jon reached for his coffee and washed the obstruction away.

“Don’t go and kill yourself before tonight, kid,” Richie laughed.

Jon took another sip of coffee and frowned. “What’s happening tonight?”

“I got the night off! So,” Richie grinned, “I’m taking you out to Tracks!” 

Tracks was Richie’s favourite nightclub to go to on his rare nights off. Sometimes he took his johns there if they were up for a bit of public display.

“David’s gonna be so jealous!” Jon grinned and finished his breakfast. He gathered up Richie empty plate and started to clean the kitchen.

“Hey! You don’t do the dishes on your birthday!” Richie said, lighting up a cigarette to have with his coffee. “Leave them. I’ll do them later. Go on… get outta here.”

“Thanks, dude,” Jon grabbed his jacket and keys, since they’d finally gotten a second set cut, and headed for the door.

“Hey Jonny,” Richie called. 

Jon turned back to look at him. 

Richie was scratching his lower belly as he stretched out on one of the kitchen chairs, legs crossed, emphasising his generous crotch. He didn’t know why he was about to do this but he did it anyway. “You owe me a kiss for the pancakes.”

Jon gaped a little then ducked his head, a smile playing on his lips as he slipped out the door.

Fuck….

Richie quickly cleaned the kitchen, showered and crawled into bed. He’d had a busy night but he had to make up the shortfall for not working tonight.

One guy had become belligerent when Richie had said no to being bound and gagged. That was one of his hard no’s. No doubt Al would get word of it eventually but something had given Richie warning bells about the guy.

With a sigh, he tucked his arm up behind his head and pondered his revelation this morning. His free hand strayed down his belly as his eyes slid to the bathroom, picturing Jon jerking off in the shower. His mind wandered as his fingers ghosted over his burgeoning length. One of the perks of his job; he had the ability to control his body’s responses depending on what the situation called for. 

He came quickly, and with a cursory wipe of his hand, fell asleep almost immediately. His dreams were filled with Jon and his transformation from scared runaway, distrustful of everyone to the happy go lucky kid he was today. 

“No! Jonny… it…,” Richie moaned in his sleep as he tossed and turned, “not me… never do that!”

He woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright, tears mingled with sweat on his face, the sheets twisted and damp beneath him. Flashes of his dream came to him as he reigned in his breathing. 

Jon was writhing beneath him in pleasure.

Well, that explains the damp sheets, he thought before another scene flashed through his mind. 

He and Jon were in bed, but Jon’s moans of desire soon turned into screams of pain as Richie knelt above him. He groaned pitifully as the full force of the scene hit. His dream self looked down at Jon. He was expecting to see the smile that made his stomach take flight but to his horror, he saw Jon’s torso covered with bruises, burns and welts.

”No! I didn’t do that! Jonny, you gotta believe me. I’d never do that!” he remembered himself saying.

“You’re just like him!” dream Jon cried, “I trusted you! You’re sick like him.”

A sob tore from Richie’s chest. Even though it was just a nightmare, the effect it had on him was real enough. He felt sick.

He bolted from the bed, almost tripping as his legs were still tangled in the sheets. He just made it to the bowl in time before his stomach rebelled against the food he’d consumed earlier.

He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand when his stomach settled and leaned back against the vanity. Richie hauled himself up from the floor and leaned heavily against the basin. He caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror above. God, he looked like shit!

Pushing away, he went looking for his cigarettes beside the bed. Eyeing the soiled sheets, he ripped them off the bed with a growl and threw them into the corner before lighting up. 

He scrubbed his face with his hands and sat heavily on the bed. He knew without a doubt that he’d never want to hear those words come from Jon, aimed at him. Jon shouldn’t have any more pain in his life; Richie could deal with his pain of denying himself.

Looking at his watch, he saw that it was close to closing time for the store which meant that Jon would be home within an hour or so. With a heavy sigh, he stubbed out his cigarette and walked into the bathroom to start getting ready for Jon’s introduction into the local nightlife.


	5. Chapter 5

**Jon**

****March 2****

Jon pushed through the doors of Rashbaum Music after a slow, contemplative walk from home. 

He hadn’t really meant to blurt out about kissing Richie…did he?!

But then Richie had smelled so goddamn erotic when he hugged him for his present, he couldn’t help but tug a quick one out in the shower. It was an alluring mix of Jack Daniels, nicotine, weed...sex...and that undeniable scent that was purely Richie. 

So, Jon reasoned, it was an understandable slip of the tongue that he’d thought that Richie had chosen to ignore...until that last minute at the door.

“Happy birthday!” chorused David, Eddie and Flo, Eddie’s wife, as Jon walked further into the store. 

Jon had to smile at the three Rashbaum’s, with party hats and party blowers, that greeted him. On the front counter was a huge birthday cake with candles blazing. David hurtled toward him, enveloping him in a hug and almost knocking him off his feet.

Jon and the family had become close over the past few months. David was easy to get along with and Eddie had invited Jon home for dinner a few times. On the days that David wasn’t at the store, he and Eddie talked about a wide array of topics when there was a lull in customers. 

Between what he’d told David and Eddie, respectively, they knew that he’d been in foster care and that life hadn’t been easy. 

Richie was the only person, however, he had trusted with all the horrors. 

They’d spoken long into that night Richie had confronted Jon; sitting in the dark and passing a joint between them as Jon unburdened himself to Richie. The latter never said a harsh word or judged his behaviour. Nor did he pity him for which Jon was truly grateful for. It did, however, cement their relationship firmly.

“Mom made the cake especially for you,” David said, pulling Jon from his reverie as he was pushed toward the front counter.

“Thank you...all of you,” Jon beamed at the family of three. 

The fact that anyone had done anything about his birthday, was not lost on him and it made him suddenly emotional. Clearing his throat, he continued thickly, “This is the first birthday that I’ve had cake...let alone a present. Thank you...for all of it.”

“Oh honey,” Flo said in her kind, motherly voice and moved to envelop Jon in a hug, “I wish I’d known you sooner. No boy should go through what you’ve had to endure.” 

The Rashbaums, he’d discovered, were huggers. Jon leaned into it, appreciating it for what it was.

“Did you like the guitar, Jon?” Eddie asked.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Jon exclaimed. Flo shot him a disapproving look. “Oops, sorry Mrs R!”

“Richie said you had learned quickly,” Eddie continued, “so he wanted you to have one for yourself. He’s very fond of you.” Richie was at the store almost as much as Jon was.

“He was the first person I met here,” Jon said with a cursory nod.

“Aww c’mon, Jonny,” David whined a little, “blow out the candles already and let’s have some cake!”

After the cake was cut and eaten, the doors were opened to the customers and Flo took her leave for the day.

“Jon, would you like to come to dinner tonight?” she asked as she made ready to leave.

“Oh! Thanks for the invite, Mrs R,” Jon said, “but Richie’s taking me out to a club for my birthday. David, you wanna come out with us?”

“Hell yeah!” David replied, but his mother was shaking her head.

“We’re visiting your Grandma’s tomorrow, remember?” Flo said with a slight roll of her eyes, “I don’t need you there with a hangover, young man.”

“Aw, Mom.” It was a full whine this time as he tried to cajole his mother into letting him go out but to no avail.

After his mother had left, David pouted and sulked. 

“This sucks. You’ll be going out dancing with all the pretty girls and I’ll have my cheeks pinched and have to play the piano for hours on end.”

Jon had to chuckle, “I don’t dance.”

“Doesn’t matter! You’ll be there and I’ll be in hell!”

“I’ve been to hell, man,” Jon said wryly, “You’re grandmother’s isn’t hell, trust me!”

Eddie had had enough of David’s complaining so sent him to school early, which set off another round of complaints. 

“That boy! He’ll be the death of me. You don’t seem to be as obsessed about girls as he is...or boys,” Eddie noted casually.

“Bad experience,” Jon said shortly, hoping to leave it at that. 

“Oh...back at your old school?” Eddie asked, “Was it because of your sexuality?”

“Some of it,” Jon admitted. He turned and busied himself with resorting a display in order to avoid any further interrogation.

“I’m sorry, Jon,” Eddie said sympathetically, “Flo’s right, we wish we’d known you earlier. You’ve become like another son to us.”

“Thanks, Mr R,” Jon smiled, truly touched at the older man’s words. 

“There...there is someone,” he said hesitantly, “but I’m not sure if they like me.” He actually felt a little relieved at saying those words out loud.

“Oh?” Eddie said, “Well, whoever it is, they’d be lucky to have a fine young man like yourself in their lives.”

“Hmm I dunno ‘bout that,” Jon shrugged, “but thanks.”

“You underestimate yourself, Jon,” Eddie said, “You’ve proven yourself to be a good friend to David and a hard worker here. That’s a sign of a good man in my books.” 

Jon blinked back the unexpected emotion from Eddie’s kind words. He nodded in thanks, unable to speak without giving himself away. He was saved from any further embarrassment when Eddie was called away to a customer in the instrument section.

**~~**

The rest of the day passed quickly. The store had been busy from lunchtime onward and Jon had not been able to take a break. So when the last customer left at almost 6 pm, Jon quickly tidied the store as Eddie settled up the till and locked the doors. He locked the day’s takings into a briefcase, ready to be taken home and locked away until Monday morning when the banks opened again.

“I’m closing the store at lunchtime tomorrow, Jon,” Eddie said as they were preparing to leave, “so why don’t you take tomorrow off. David can help out before we leave for my mother’s place.”

“Oh...are you sure, Mr R?” Jon said, wondering how he was going to make up the shortfall in his portion of the rent, “I..I can come in. It’s not a problem.”

“Absolutely,” the man smiled, “Go and enjoy your night with Richie. I don’t need you coming in here and falling asleep under the piano.” 

Richie.

Jon felt something inside him twist a little at the name.

They closed the door behind them and Jon secured the locks, handing Eddie the keys.

“Oh! Here’s your pay, Jon,” Eddie pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket, “I put a little something extra in there for your birthday. You’ve earned it.” He handed it over to Jon. “Well, g’night,” he said, “Have a good weekend, Jon. See you on Monday.”

Jon waited until Eddie had walked the half block to his car and drove away before opening it. He looked at the bills, flicking them with his thumb and he gasped when he counted above and beyond his normal weekly pay. With a little huff of surprise and a shake of his head, he tucked it away safely into the front pocket of his jeans and headed home excitedly.

It didn’t take him long to get there, he felt as though he’d practically ran home. He was both nervous and excited about tonight. 

He turned the key as quietly as possible expecting Richie to still be sleeping but when he pushed the door open a fog of sweet-smelling smoke puffed out to welcome him. He shut the door behind him quickly.

“Hey! There’s the birthday boy,” Richie grinned from his usual spot on the floor. His eyes were heavy-lidded and slightly unfocused as he picked out a soulful tune on his guitar as he smoked.

“Hey!” Jon greeted him, “Didn’t expect you to be awake just yet.” 

Jon threw his keys on the coffee table and flopped down on the sofa beside him, reaching for his own guitar. He studied Richie’s fingers for a few minutes then started playing a matching melody, the two melding together seamlessly.

“Hmmm,” Richie closed his eyes, getting carried away with the music which had become as intoxicating as the joint sitting, forgotten, in the ashtray. 

Jon breathed deeply, as the secondhand smoke filled his lungs.

“Had a nightmare,” Richie said almost too quietly to hear, “couldn’t sleep after. No one to talk to so…” he shrugged and let the sentence trail off.

“You okay?” Jon asked, “We don’t have to go out tonight...if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, man,” Richie said lazily, “We’ll go say hello to Rosie first, grab a bite and then hit the club.”

Jon continued to watch Richie play. He marvelled at the way the muscles of his biceps bunched and released in a silent symphony with the fingers that moved so effortlessly over the fretboard with a delicacy that belied the strength needed, his grip around the neck sliding and adjusting to suit its width.

Jon’s mouth suddenly went dry as images flashed behind his eyes of those fingers wrapped around something else. Something more...personal. 

He licked his lips nervously and quickly stood, placing the guitar on the sofa.

“I...Ahh, I’m gonna hit the shower,” he said.

Richie cracked an eye his way and nodded, “Help yourself to any clothes, kid.”

Jon nodded and hurried into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door behind him with a sigh of relief. 

Over the past couple of months, the brutal memories of the last foster home started to recede as more and more time passed without being found. The constant fear of being hauled back to that place gradually fell away. 

Now that he was eighteen he didn’t have to worry about that at all. He let the hot water sluice the shampoo from his hair as he braced himself against the wall.

What he did have to worry about is his growing fascination for his flatmate. 

There were often nights when he’d been alone that he’d find himself standing in Richie’s bedroom trying to absorb the details of the man as he picked up items randomly; shirts, necklaces, empty cigarette cartons or such, smoothing his fingers over them or holding them to his nose to commit them to memory.

With a frustrated sigh and a flick of his wrist, Jon killed the water and swiped his hands over his head to push the remainder of the water from it. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, rubbing it over his head as the bathroom door was thrown open.

“Oh shit!” Jon yelped in surprise and dropped the towel to cover himself.

“Sorry, kid,” Richie said from the doorway, “but I needed to piss.”

Jon stood frozen as their eyes met in the mirror.

“You gonna get dressed at all, kid?” Richie smirked as he stood at the porcelain bowl emptying his bladder in a steady stream, “As...fine...as you look like that, I don’t think they’ll let you in the door without at least some pants on.”

“Um...yeah,” Jon said and cursorily rubbed his body down before bending to do his legs. He straightened up when he could have sworn he heard Richie groan. “Will jeans and a t-shirt be okay?” he asked as Richie flushed and washed his hands. 

Jon, feeling exposed and vulnerable, grabbed his jeans from the hook and started pulling them up his still-damp legs as Richie leaned against the vanity and eyed Jon, not looking as though he was going anywhere soon.

“Mmm, yeah...a t-shirt will be fine,” Richie said as a slow smile spread across his face, “I have the perfect one you can borrow, too. But in the meantime,” he moved from the vanity and took the towel from Jon and positioned him in front of the mirror, “if you don’t dry your hair properly, you’ll catch a cold.”

Jon watched Richie in the mirror as he gently towel-dried his hair, the soft pull of strands through the fluffy cotton becoming mesmerising. His breathing quickened as the heat from the older man rivalled the warmth of his shower.

Richie put the towel down and finger-combed Jon’s hair. Jon noticed that Richie’s doe-like eyes had never left his as he worked the tangles free. Despite the pain, Jon found himself leaning into his touch.

“Your hair has grown so long,” Richie murmured absently as he pulled the locks down his back. 

As he looked at Richie’s reflection he saw the older man’s tongue dart out, almost imperceptibly, to swipe over his bottom lip. Jon shivered violently as Richie’s knuckle skimmed down his spine, down to the small of his back.

Jon gasped at the touch which in turn startled Richie from what he was doing.

“Oh fuck!” Richie swore. He stepped back and held his hands up as though he’d been scalded, “I’m...I’m sorry, kid… I...ah...finish getting ready.” He turned on his heel and left Jon standing speechless in the bathroom.


	6. Chapter 6

**RICHIE**

Richie left the bedroom and stormed around the small kitchen and living room, berating himself with every step. 

Fuck! Why’d I do that? Richie thought as he ripped open the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers, I’m such an idiot. 

He flipped the cap off a bottle and took a long swallow as he mentally called himself all kinds of names.

“Got one for me?” Jon said from the doorway.

Richie turned, startled. “Um, yeah, sure.” He capped the other beer and handed it to Jon. “Listen... Jon… I’m sorry,” Richie started to apologise, “about in the bathroom.”

”Don’t… you… you didn’t do anything wrong,” Jon mumbled and ducked his head a little, “It just startled me… I trust you.”

And with those three words, Richie’s world tilted off its axis a little.

_I trust you..._

Trust him?! How? How could Jon trust anyone after all he’s been through? Jesus fucking Christ! If he had gone through what Jon had, Richie would want to bolt himself inside his room for the rest of his days.

“So? How do I look?” Jon asked, breaking the awkwardness that had descended. He held his arms out to his side and slowly turned.

Richie blinked then broke out into chuckles because Jon didn’t look any different than any other day in his own jeans and Richie’s t-shirt. 

“Come with me, kid,” Richie motioned as he brushed passed Jon, returning to the bedroom. He placed his beer on the bedside table before delving into the small closet that housed their clothes. 

After a few weeks of Jon living out of his backpack, Richie had cleared some space so Jon could hang a few things.

He pulled out a structured navy jacket, pushing the sleeves up Jon’s arms. He hooked a couple of his necklaces and a scarf around Jon’s neck. He then rummaged around in a pile of earrings and pulled out a long, dangly diamante drop that he’d scored off one of his girlfriends.

Richie stepped closer, tucked Jon’s damp hair behind his ear and took out the earring he had used to pierce Jon’s ear a month ago. Their eyes met briefly as fingers brushed skin and Richie felt as though his stomach was about to take flight with the way it fluttered around.

“You’re a good healer, Jonny,” Richie said absently in a soft voice as he slipped the hook through the lobe. Richie gently tugged on the sparkly strands in his ear and heard Jon’s sharp intake of breath.

“Right! I think you’re good to go,” Richie said after looking Jon over. “Gimme a minute and we’ll go hit Rosie up for something to eat.” 

“Oh… um sure,” Jon replied and left the bedroom. Richie saw through the open door that Jon went straight for his guitar and within moments, heard one of their compositions being played. 

Richie stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the light. Bracing himself against the vanity, he stared at himself in the mirror, cursing himself yet again for weakening around his friend. With a heavy sigh, he scrubbed his hand over his face before touching up his eyeliner and gloss again. 

The buzz he’d had earlier had flown away with the butterflies in his stomach a moment ago. Opening the medicine cabinet he found his stash of Quaaludes and shook out two, slipping one into his jeans pocket before putting the pill bottle back behind a couple of half-empty shampoo bottles. 

He bit the remaining one in half and washed it down with the rest of his beer and pocketing the other half for later. He’d score some coke or poppers at the club, but right now he needed to take the edge off his craving for Jon.

“Let’s go, kid!” he said as grabbed his jacket, wallet, and keys, left the bedroom and headed for the front door.

Heading down the stairs, he heard Jon slamming the door closed behind him and jogging down the stairs behind him, catching up to him out on the street.

His uneasiness had started to dissipate and they walked the darkened streets companionably toward the diner.

“You ready, kid,” Richie grinned, “for the first night of your official adult life?”

Jon groaned, smiling wide, and stepped around Richie a couple of times, “Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed.

“I think you been hanging around David too much,” Richie laughed as Jon excitedly zigzagged around him.

“Man, today is the first day that I haven’t had that sick feeling,” Jon said, slowing down a little, “that I’m gonna get hauled back to that place. Every single fucking day since I ran into you, I’ve had that living inside of me. Not to mention the panic attacks when a police cruiser drives past.”

“Really? I didn’t know,” Richie frowned, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Why? What could you have done?” Jon asked as he fell back into step with him.

“Point taken,” Richie shrugged, “but talking about your fears might have helped with the panic attacks.”

Jon stopped Richie mid-step by placing his hand on his arm to get his attention.

“I guess,” Jon started awkwardly, “I don’t believe in ‘God’,” he mimed the quotation marks, “but I thank whoever it is up there for bringing us together. It feels like… uh… I dunno… like it was meant to be.”

It felt as though the world closed in on Richie as his vision narrowed down to focus wholly on Jon. His gaze took in the handsome younger man that had become a piece of the puzzle he hadn’t realised he’d been missing. 

Richie didn’t think he could trust his voice at that moment so he’d just nodded and hauled him in for a crushing hug.

“Me too, kid,” he managed to whisper hoarsely into Jon’s hair. 

When the hug lasted for just an awkward moment too long, Richie clapped him on the back and pulled away, clearing his throat before saying, “C’mon… I’m starved.” 

He looped an arm around Jon’s shoulders companionably and they walked the final block to the diner.

Richie pushed open the door first and greeted the older woman standing behind the counter. “Hey Rosie, how are ya, darlin’? Got a table for us?”

Rosie looked up and smiled warmly at her ‘boys’ as Jon stepped through the door next, “Hello boys. Working tonight, Richie, or pleasure?”

“He’s taken the night off for a change,” Jon offered.

“So it’s pleasure, darlin’,” he drawled, “ all pleasure.”

“Good! I worry about you out on those streets at night, honey,” Rosie said, smiling maternally.

”No need to worry,” Richie said, “My gut hasn’t steered me wrong yet, Rosie.”

Rosie frowned slightly but let the comment slide.

“Your table is taken tonight but if you go around the corner there’s one back there for you. You boys go on back there; I’ll be right with you.”

Richie winked and replied with a grin, “Thanks, darlin’.”

Richie motioned to Jon to go on ahead and as he strolled off, Rosie quickly passed a couple of kids’ party hats and blowers to Richie who hid them behind his back and caught up to Jon just before he turned the corner to the back area.

“SURPRISE!”

Jon stopped dead in his tracks which had Richie running into his back. He had to chuckle at the complete shock on Jon's face. 

“Happy birthday, Jonny,” Richie said as he quickly planted a kiss to his temple, placing the party hat on Jon’s head before doing the same for himself then gently pushed Jon toward the small gathering.

He stood back and watched Jon being enveloped in birthday greetings by David and his parents, Nikki and a couple of other friends of theirs, feeling pleased with himself in being able to pull it off.

Rosie hip-checked him as she stood beside Richie. Richie gave her a quick smile. “You did a good thing here, Richie,” she said quietly, “He’s a good kid.”

“Thanks, Rosie,” he replied, “He’s had a fucked-up past so he deserves to have a good future.”

Rosie nodded and regarded Richie for a moment. “You like him, don’t you?” she asked, sagely.

“Of course I like him,” Richie said obliviously, “I wouldn’t have let him move in if I didn’t.”

“No, honey,” she chuckled, “You _like_ him.”

Richie turned slowly to the woman he’d grown to consider a mother figure, and sighed, “That obvious, huh?”

“Only to those who really know you, sweetie,” Rosie smiled and hugged him. She bussed his cheek with a kiss and whispered, “I think he likes you too, for what it’s worth.” 

Richie watched her walk up to the small group with her notepad and took everyone’s orders. As she walked back to the kitchen, Jon turned, looking for him. He smiled and beckoned Richie over when he saw him.

Richie felt that tightening in his chest as Jon’s happy smile softened into something else as their eyes held for a moment.

God! He desperately needed a drink or something to quell the influx of emotions. Instead, he stuck the party blower in his mouth and joined the others.

The party, such as it was, was noisy and full of laughter. The older Rashbaum’s chatted with Rosie when she had spare moments in her shift as the younger ones told raucous stories. 

“Hey!” Richie called after the meals had been eaten, “Who’s ready to hit the dance floor?”

“Absolutely! But first...” Jon said standing but holding his hands up to quiet the chatter around him, “I...I just want to say thank you to you all. You have no idea how much this means to me. I’ve made some good friends since I moved here and for that, I’m grateful.”

“You need to thank Richie, Jon,” Rosie said from behind Richie, “He organised everything.”

A chorus of ‘Hear, hear’s’ were offered by everyone. Richie felt the blush rise up his neck as Jon smiled and raised his glass of coke to him, mouthing a thank you.

“Yeah… well,” Richie shrugged, “everyone should have at least one birthday party in their lives. Fuck it... I need a drink. Can we get outta here already?”

“I’m ready!” Jon said excitedly before he said his goodbyes to the Rashbaums.

Nikki wandered toward Richie and slipped his arms around his waist. Richie smiled up at the brunette as his arms snaked around his neck, saying, “Thanks for coming, Nik. Now it’s time for some serious fun at Tracks.”

“I came tonight for you, baby, but it seems,” Nikki said as he brushed some hair from Richie's face, “as though it might be time for me to bow out of the picture here.”

“What?! No!” Richie frowned, “You only just came back. Where are you going to go?” He tightened his hold on Nikki.

Nikki looked over his shoulder and Richie’s eyes followed. Jon was still talking to the Rashbaums.

“Judging by the looks you’re sending Jon-boy over there, it’s time for me to move on,” Nikki smiled sadly as he watched Richie closely, “I’m heading back out to California next week."

“No, I-” Richie started to protest until Nikki silenced him with a bittersweet, almost chaste, kiss.

“Rich… it’s okay. It was fun while it lasted, baby,” Nikki said, “but it seems as though our timing sucks. I’m glad you found me again, though.”

Richie felt sucker-punched as he stood mute, shaking his head in denial however, deep down, he knew Nikki was right.

“Nikki…” Richie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby. You and I… we just weren’t meant to be,” he reasoned as they walked arm in arm to the door. “Actually… there’s someone, a guy out in LA that I’d started seeing before I came back here.”

They stopped just outside the door, standing in a soft puddle of light from the diner windows. Richie moved to face Nikki again.

“Was it serious?” Richie asked as his hand went to Nikki’s jacket lapels, unconsciously adjusting them, letting go slowly.

“With Tommy?” he asked rhetorically, “As serious as it could. I kinda got cold feet, that’s why I came back here for a while. Then you saw me that day…”

“And I was a willing fuck,” Richie supplied pragmatically. He’d had the feeling that things between them had changed over time.

Nikki shrugged and had the good grace to blush slightly.

“Now,” Nikki said, tugging gently on Richie's hair at his nape, “put on one of those pretty smiles that I love so much.” 

“I wish you well, Nik,” Richie said, stepping out of Nikki’s embrace just outside the door or the diner, “Keep in touch this time, though…please?”

Nikki nodded and kissed him one last time. “Smile, baby,” he whispered as he caressed Richie’s cheek one last time and stepped away, walking backwards down the street just as Jon came out.

“There you are! Thought you two had left without us.”

Richie silently watched Nikki as he walked away. He stopped about half a block away and turned back to face Richie and Jon.

“Hey Jonny,” Nikki yelled, bowing low as if he were addressing royalty, “Happy Birthday, dude. You take good fucking care of the present I left for you!” 

He threw up his arms, howling into the night, his fingers curling into the devil horns and turned around to continue his journey into the night.

Richie smiled, even though his heart was heavy, as Nikki turned the corner and out of sight.


	7. Chapter 7

**JON**

“Thank you...both of you, for everything,” Jon said to the senior Rashbaums, “I can’t begin to tell you how much today has meant.”

“You deserve it, Jon,” Eddie said, “You’ve been a good friend to David and you’re a hard worker as the store.”

Flo smiled and nodded in agreement with her husband. “You’ve become a part of our family, sweetie.”

“Can I ask you something?” Jon asked Flo.

“Of course,” she replied.

“Can I give you a hug?” He flashed her one of his smiles that had all the girls flocking to the store when he was working.

“Oh sweetie…,” she smiled and held her arms out to him. 

As he melted into Flo’s motherly embrace he spied Richie and Nikki in their own embrace over her shoulder. Jon wondered what they were talking about since Richie was looking extremely forlorn as they walked to the door.

He stepped back from the older woman and started to say, “I…, ” but he lost his train of thought when he saw Nikki kiss Richie. 

He felt his breath shudder and his heart push at the confines of his chest wall. He slammed his hands into his back pocket to keep them from shaking.

“Jon?” Flo drew his attention back, “You were about to say something?”

“Um...yeah, yeah,” he shuffled his feet, frowning, as he collected himself, “I know you have family plans tomorrow but could Davy come out with us? Please...otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it at work.”

Eddie snorted, “We were always going to let him go, Jon.”

“We just haven’t told him yet,” Flo winked. “Thought we’d let him stew a little.”

“That’s awesome. Thank you,” Jon replied with a genuine smile, “Um, can you tell him I’ll wait outside? I need a smoke. Thanks again for today!” 

He moved away toward the door without even waiting for a reply.

He pushed out the door in time to see Nikki strolling down the block, leaving Richie standing alone.

“There you are! Thought you two had left without us,” Jon said, forcing a jovial tone to his voice. 

“Huh?” Richie mumbled distractedly.

“Is Nikki not coming with us?” 

Jon watched Richie’s smile falter and fall away, the further away Nikki got.

“Nah...he, ah,” Richie stumbled over his words a little. Clearing his throat, he said, “He’s going back to California.”

“Oh!” Jon exclaimed, “I thought you and he were….”

“Yeah, well-“ Richie started to say. He dug through his pockets looking for his cigarettes.

“Hey Jonny,” Nikki yelled from down the block, bowing low as if he were addressing royalty, “Happy Birthday, dude. You take good fucking care of the present I left for you!” 

He threw up his arms, howling into the night, his fingers curling into the devil horns and turned around to continue his journey into the darkness.

Richie smiled again, even though it didn’t carry to his eyes, Jon noted.

“What was that about?” Jon asked.

Richie lit a smoke, breathing the nicotine deep into his lungs before exhaling, tipping his face toward the sky. Shaking his head, he said, “Nothing...doesn’t matter.” 

Before Jon could say anything else, he was set upon by David, yelling with excitement as he jumped between Richie and himself. “I did it, boys!” He exclaimed with a beaming smile.

“Did what?” Jon asked. Richie was still silent, brooding.

“Remember that sweet lookin’ blonde I chatted up?”

“The cute one with legs that go right up?” Jon waggled his eyebrows, “She came into the store today, right?”

“Yeah, her,” David said, “I got her number today. I just rang her as soon as the ‘rents said I could come out with you. She’s meeting me at the club in an hour. Tonight’s gonna be the night, boys! I feel it in my boner!”

Jon snorted in mirth.

“C’mon you two,” Richie finally said with a sigh, “I need a fucking drink.” He shook off David’s arm from his shoulder and started walking.

David glanced over to Jon and whispered, “Who pissed in his Cheerios?”

“I think he and Nikki had a fight or something,” Jon replied with a shrug, “C’mon, or we’ll lose him.” Jon was concerned at the dramatic change in Richie’s mood but pushed it to one side for the moment.

The trio walked the dark streets toward the nightclub. David eventually cajoled Richie back into a reasonable frame of mind with his non-stop banter about the girl from the store earlier today.

When they arrived at the entrance to the club, Richie greeted the guy on the door with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Dougie, looking fine, my friend,” Richie said with a smirk to the large blonde.

“Richie...good to see you too, man,” Dougie smiled, looking Richie up and down with undisguised interest. He glanced at Jon and David, “Business?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not tonight, babe,” Richie replied, “Pleasure of the highest kind tonight. It’s Jonny’s birthday today,” he hooked his arm around Jon’s shoulder, “so I thought I’d show him around a bit.”

“Okay then,” Dougie nodded, opening the ropes holding off the rest of the queue and allowing the three to enter. 

“Alright!” David exclaimed and headed in through the door.

Jon was blasted with a wall of music as the funky beat of a Michael Jackson song thumped through his body and the neon flashing lights dazzled him. He paused for a moment, taking it all in and storing it for contemplation at a later time. 

He thanked Dougie as he finally got the momentum to continue. Richie was right behind him until Dougie stopped Richie as he walked past, “I have a break at one...if you’re free.” 

Jon turned to see Richie flash a look his way and shake his head, “Not tonight, babe. It’s Jonny’s night tonight.”

Jon felt Richie’s warm hand on the small of his back pushing him in through the door. Richie seemed to relax as soon as the door closed behind them.

“I’m getting a drink,” he said into Jon’s ear so he could be heard, “What do you want?”

Jon let his eyes close as Richie’s breath ghosted over his cheek and puffed through his hair. Snapping his eyes open, he saw Richie’s expectant face.

“Um...whatever you’re having,” he replied with a shrug.

“Jack Daniel’s it is,” Richie nodded and grinned before disappearing through the moving mass of limbs moving in time to the music. 

Jon moved to a table situated at the edge of the dance floor and lit a cigarette as he absorbed the atmosphere through every pore. Sights, smells, heavy bass lines shook his internal organs and synthesized notes screamed in his ears. 

He observed the girls dancing with each other or with guys who either shuffled from one foot to the other or danced with abandon, channelling John Travolta with every ounce of their energy, or some guys dancing, some subtly, others not so subtly, with other guys before disappearing within a flash.

“Jonny!” David yelled from between two tables, holding a beer aloft. He pushed through the crowd, Richie following with two glasses, “She’s here!”

“Who’s here?” Richie asked as he set two glasses down on the table, pushing on toward Jon.

“Amber!” David said, pointing to a group of girls standing in a giggling cluster and waving. 

A petite blonde with a wide, open smile and bouncy, loose curls waved back before coyly turning back to her friends. She was wearing a white bustier with her legs disappearing under a frothy tulle skirt. Cinching her small waist was a silver-toned buckle emblazoned with ‘Boy Toy’. Her delicate hands that held a glass of wine, were tipped with blood-red polish and fingerless lace gloves.

“Then go talk to her, man,” Jon said, “You’re not gonna pop your cherry tonight over here!”

“You don’t think she’s outta my league?” he asked.

“Won’t know if you don’t try.”

David drained the beer he was holding and slammed the bottle on the table, saying, “Wish me luck, boys,” and disappeared into the throng of dancers only to reappear at Amber’s side. Within moments David had lead Amber out to the dancefloor as Jon and Richie both howled their approval and encouragement.

Richie reached into his pants pocket and slipped something into his mouth, downing it with a swallow of his Jack Daniels. He smacked his lips and started moving to the beat of the music.

“What was that?” Jon asked.

“Just a little something to loosen up,” Richie winked, producing the half tablet from earlier, “Quaalude. I have half of one if you wanna give it a try. I had the other half before we left the apartment.”

“Sure,” Jon said as he took the proffered tablet from Richie’s open palm. He hoped the shaking in his hand wasn’t too noticeable as he placed it on his tongue. He washed the bitter pill down with a fairly large mouthful of his drink, almost coughing it all back up as the heat of the liquor burned its way down his throat.

Richie laughed and smacked him on the back, “You okay?” 

Jon could only nod as he struggled through his cough.

“Throw ‘em back like that, kid,” Richie chuckled, “and you’ll be smashed within ten minutes. Want me to get water for you?”

“No!” Jon protested, “I want another of these.” He held up his empty glass. “You want another?”

“Bring it on, kid,” Richie raised his glass in agreement.

Jon nodded and headed toward the bar. He pushed through the crowds, getting pummelled in the wave of humanity confined within the four walls of the club. He met the inquisitive looks of strangers that smiled in an invitation to him, feeling hands brushing over him. 

He had to push back against the rush of bad memories but he kept moving forward. He wasn’t sure if it was just getting easier to push them down due to the time elapsed or the drugs and alcohol in his system as they took effect.

When he finally made it back to their table David had joined Richie with Amber sitting in his lap.

“Hi,” Jon greeted the others, “Sorry, Davy, didn’t get you or your friend a drink. I know you from the store, don’t I?”

Amber gave him a sweet smile and held out a gloved hand. "Yeah weren’t you the shy one behind the counter? I'm Amber Klinefeld."

“Shy?!” Jon repeated incredulously with a shake of his head, “Nice to meet you, Amber, I’m Jon. I was just being a good wingman and staying out of Davy’s territory.”

“I’ll be right back,” Richie said, grabbing his glass, “Have fun, you three.”

Jon watched him walk over to a group of people and instantly be engulfed. Someone showed Richie a bag of something from under his jacket. Richie nodded and they disappeared into the bathroom close by.

"Your friend seems to like being the centre of attention," Amber said pointedly to David. "And a secretive one."

"He's good people, sweetheart," David replied, his hands rubbing up and down her legs. 

“He knows a lot of people through his job,” Jon added. He was tapped on the shoulder from behind by a stunning, sleek-looking woman. Jon turned and looked her up and down, smiling at what he saw before him.

“Hi cutie,” she said, “Dance with me?” A slow, sexy smile appeared across her lips as she took Jon’s hand and pulled him out to the dance floor without waiting for an answer. He turned back to David and shrugged with a bemused smile.

Amber slid off David and pulled him away from the table into a dark corner. 

For the next few hours, Jon danced with various people, male and female and had accepted drinks of indistinguishable origins. He staggered back to the table, feeling more and more unsteady.

It took him a few minutes to realize that Amber was straddling David in the farthest, darkest end of the table. Their lips were locked in a fierce battle and David's hands had disappeared under Amber's skirt. 

He could barely hear her soft whimpering over the music and noticed how her hips rolled against David's. Her fingers tangled through the dark blonde Jewfro.

“Are you two…,” Jon asked with a crack of drunken laughter and slapped his hand on the table making the glasses and bottles wobble precariously, “Oh hell yeah!” 

Amber's bright eyes fell on Jon as David shoved his face between her breasts. She winked and licked her lips, lifting her skirt enough to show him David's cock thrusting into her and their bodies rocking in unison.

Damn it, the knowledge went straight to his crotch. He pushed down on his instant erection with the heel of his hand.

Jon’s head swam and his blood burned through his veins, thick with lust, as the heat pooled heavily in his gut. His hand trailed over himself in the dark as his friend’s head dropped back with a gasp.

"Mmm fuck, Baby," she moaned, "come for me, handsome...please…"

"Tell me where you want it," David groaned.

"Fill me up, Baby. Harder...oh god yes! Right there…"

Jon dropped his head to his arms, trying to concentrate on anything other than David and Amber fucking in the middle of the nightclub. 

He raised his head and looked around. His vision blurred and softened before coming back into sharp contrast, falling coincidentally on Richie in the middle of the dance floor.

David moaned louder than intended, coming hard inside a woman for the first time. Amber buried her head into David's shoulder, her body quaking against him with her own climax.

Jon groaned deeply, pitifully, as he watched Richie dance. His hair clinging slightly to his face and his body undulating in perfect unison to the music. Richie happened to look up right then, smiling eyes full of promise and grinned when he saw Jon watching him. He waved Jon over to join him.

Jon needed to know. He needed to know what Richie’s lips tasted like, what his skin felt like under his fingers. He’d been wondering for weeks now. He didn’t want to wonder anymore, he wanted to know exactly.

“Jonny?” David’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

He hadn’t even realised he’d stood up.

“Davy,” Jon said, clumsily placing his drink on the table, "I...I gotta go do something"

He swayed a little as the room shrunk and expanded as though it was breathing as heavily as he was. He pushed through the crowd, ignoring all that tried to take his attention from his intended target, and stopped in front of him.

“Hey, kid! Come for a dance with me finally, huh?”

Jon stayed silent, his hands clenching and releasing at his sides. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip involuntarily.

Richie stared at him, confused, and asked, “Jonny?”

Jon’s body was buffeted against the crowd as he stood, unmoving.

In a split second, a now or never moment, he reached for Richie, sinking his fingers through those soft tendrils of hair he’d been thinking of, his hand moulded to the shape of Richie’s skull and crushed his mouth to Richie’s. 

Somewhere in his consciousness, he heard David’s yell of surprise as his world contracted into a pinpoint as their lips touched. 

Jon’s tongue swiped across the crease of Richie’s lips asking to be let in. He gently pulled Richie’s bottom lip between his own, marvelling at how soft and pliable it was, how the soft full lips that he’d watched for so long now, lips that he’d only dreamed of tasting.

Richie broke first with a surprised, “Fuck!”

 _Oh god, what have I done?_ Jon thought, confused and ashamed, gaped at Richie. 

“Oh fuck! I’m...I’m sorry,” he panted, chest heaving, “I shouldn’t have done that.” He was barely heard over the music. 

He turned on his heels, ready to flee from the embarrassment. He managed two, maybe three steps when he felt a hand grip his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. 

Jon turned slowly to look down his arm at the offending grasp. His gaze then travelled upward.

Richie.

Everything seemed to be in slow-motion as Richie took one step closer to him, not saying a word, as his hands grasped either side of Jon’s face. Richie dragged a thumb across Jon’s mouth as though wiping his lips free of their first kiss.

Jon looked up into the velvety depths of the dark eyes before him and saw the heat in them, matching his own, before Richie tilted Jon’s face up to his and claimed his mouth completely. 

Jon felt himself whimper into Richie’s waiting lips, drowning in sensation. The moist heat of Richie’s mouth was intoxicating as his tongue explored and enticed its mate into an erotic dance.

He felt Richie move one of his hands down to the small of his back, holding him close, as their kisses deepened and soothed Jon’s soul. 

Jon grasped at Richie’s shirt just above his hips, anchoring himself as he soared to the highest of heights when their bodies first touched.

“Ouwoooo!” David catcalled from the table.

Jon reluctantly stopped the kiss as his emotions started to spiral out of control. He wrapped his arms tightly around Richie’s neck and breathed “Oh god…” into his hair. He almost climbed Richie’s body in a visceral need to be closer.

Richie’s arms looped around Jon’s slim waist and pulled him closer still. All Jon could do was concentrate on the beating of his heart and Richie’s laboured breathing against his neck.

“We have to stop, Jonny,” Richie groaned hoarsely, “We can’t do this tonight.”


	8. Chapter 8

**RICHIE**

“We have to stop, Jonny,” Richie groaned hoarsely, “We can’t do this tonight.”

God! It almost tore his heart out to have to say those words and yet the anguished cry that came from Jon when he did, seemed even more catastrophic. It was all he could do, not to drag him into the darkest corner and show him what he really wanted to do.

But…

He’d been keeping a careful eye on Jon, from a distance, throughout the night and knew how much he’d been drinking and how many of those drinks had been spiked with god-knows-what drugs from the hopeful ones eager to get their hands on the fresh meat. He’d kept his distance for his own heart and safety because he would have killed the first person that had succeeded.

So when Jon had stopped dead in front of him on the dancefloor and kissed him, his first reaction was shock and he’d said the first thing that came to mind. 

'Fuck!' 

Looking back on it, he probably could have said a less misconstruable word.

Then the shock vanished in an instant the moment Jon started apologising and turned on his heels to run. It impelled him to move and grab Jon before he slipped away.

Time had frozen as they’d stood in the middle of a seething mass of hot and sweaty bodies when he placed his hands on Jon’s face, never once thinking that it would ever happen, let alone the absolute wonder of the feeling of Jon’s mouth beneath his. 

The bittersweet tang of his last drug-laced drink still lingered on Jon’s lips and tongue and Richie couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted to delve deeper into the heady mix.

Until… 

Fuck!

The magnitude of remembering that Jon was not only drunk but flying as high as a human could possibly get on their first dip into the pool of the seedy nightlife of the city hit him like the proverbial truck and he HAD to stop. For Jon’s sake. 

“Shh,” he whispered in an effort to calm the distraught man in his arms. “Jonny. Shhh, baby,” he kissed his temple and cheek as Jon stilled finally. Richie could feel the confusion rolling off of him in waves as his heart pounded in time with Richie’s.

“Wha-? Why did you stop?” Jon cried out in anguish.

“Listen to me, Jonny,” Richie had to almost yell to be heard over the music. “Let’s go home. You need to sober up a little, okay?” He hooked his finger under Jon’s chin, making sure he understood. 

“Nooo,” Jon whined, child-like and unsteady on his feet, “Richie...I want you...please?!” His initial distress had given way to brazenness as his hands slipped between them to Richie’s groin.

“Argh...I know, kid, I know,” Richie groaned, frustrated and horny, “But not here...not now.” 

He gently extricated Jon’s hand from between them and kissed his palm, hoping that Jon would forgive him or at least forget the temporary rejection in his inebriated state. 

“Rich?” Jon frowned as he tried to form the sequence to get his thoughts to reach his mouth, “I- I- don’t feel so good.”

“Oh shit! Hold on, baby,” Richie said, grabbing Jon’s hand and hauling him off the dance floor toward the bathrooms. They barreled through the bathroom door and Jon managed to hold on until inside a stall, his stomach rejecting all its contents into the porcelain bowl.

Richie stood outside listening to the pitiful groans coming from within the stall. He probably should have stopped the kid from taking as many of the spiked drinks as he did but hindsight being what it is, he thought, it can’t be changed now.

“You okay, Jonny?” he called out after the retching had subsided. 

The men’s room was crowded and stank of spilled beer, piss and now the pungent aroma of vomit. Richie was propped up against the cubicle wall, ignoring the invitations from interested patrons. He heard the toilet flush and the door swung open.

“I think I puked out my balls, man,” Jon slurred as he swiped at his mouth. He wobbled his way to the basin and rinsed his mouth.

“Shame…,” Richie smirked, “You haven't even got to use them yet tonight”

Jon leaned heavily on the basin and blearily peered at himself in the mirror, “Tell me about it.” 

Richie stepped up behind him.

“C’mon, we’ll go home,” Richie smoothed his hand over Jon’s slumped shoulders.

“No,” Jon pouted, “I don’t wanna. Don’t want this night to end just yet.” He turned and curled into Richie’s chest, head bowed. “I want you to hold me again…maybe kiss me again?”

Richie closed his eyes briefly at Jon’s request, thankful that he couldn’t see the way they had impacted on him. He placed his hands on Jon’s slim hips and pulled him closer.

“Look at me, Jonny,” Richie said and waited for the blonde to turn his face up to his. In the harsh light of the men’s room, he could see the hope with an equal amount of trepidation in Jon’s inebriated eyes.

“I know what you want, Jonny, but I don’t,” Richie said softly, “I’ve fucked plenty and been fucked by plenty in that stall in the corner.” Jon’s eyes flicked quickly to the reflection of the said cubicle. “But you deserve much more than a quick fuck in the men’s room.”

Jon blinked a couple of times and slowly stepped back from Richie’s touch with a sad, wry smile and nod. He ducked out of the restroom quickly as someone drunkenly pushed open the door leaving Richie behind, gaping like a goldfish.

Richie huffed out a surprised breath. He scrubbed his hands over his face and yelled, “God! I’m such stupid fuck!” He scrambled for the door to chase Jon down, ignoring the startled looks from those in the restroom.

Ducking and weaving through the crowd as he tried to catch a glimpse of which way Jon had headed, he rushed past the table that they’d been sitting at.

“Rich!” David yelled, barely audible over the music, “What’s up, man?”

He skidded to a stop. “Did you see Jon?”

“Er, yeah,” he nodded, “He headed for the door. Did you have a fight already?”

Richie ignored the question, asking, “Can you get yourself home, kid?”

“I can drive Pookie Bear home,” Amber said from David’s lap.

“Great!” He took off toward the entrance without a backward glance.

Shit! He had to find Jon and apologise for his lack of finesse at handling his needs.

He burst through the club doors to a drizzly early morning, the rain sparkling beneath the street lights and the neon of the club sign. It reminded Richie of the night Jon had bowled him over...literally and figuratively as it turned out.

He stood on the sidewalk scanning the crowd around the club’s entrance until he spied Jon’s familiar gait about a block away heading in the direction of their apartment. Richie took off in a sprint to catch up with him.

“Jon! Wait up,” he called out when he got closer. He pulled up beside Jon and tugged his arm, spinning him around. “Why’d you take off like that?” In the pool of yellowed street light, he could see clearly Jon’s red eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Home,” Jon mumbled. He shrugged off Richie’s hand and started to walk again.

“Jonny! Can you just stop and listen for a minute?” Richie reached for Jon again, holding onto him this time.

“It’s okay, Rich. I understand. You don’t have to explain anything. You...don’t want me. I get it.”

“Obviously I do have to explain,” Richie snarled, “because if you think I don’t want you, you’re dead wrong.”

“You said so yourself in the restroom,” Jon exclaimed, the pain in his voice was clearly evident.

“No!” he exclaimed heatedly, “What I said was I didn’t want to give you a quick fuck in a nightclub restroom! You’re not one of Al’s clients I service, for fuck’s sake. They deserve that, you don’t!” 

Richie tried to steady his breathing as Jon shuffled in front of him, doing his damnedest to avoid Richie’s gaze.

“Jonny...you said earlier at home that you trusted me, right?” Richie said softly, “I care about you too damned much to ever want to betray that trust. I don’t ever want to cause you any more pain than you’ve already gone through.”

Jon’s eyes flicked up to his cautiously but he remained silent.

“You deserve so much more…,” Richie murmured and gently pulled Jon closer. 

He brushed his knuckles over Jon’s cheek before slipping his fingers through the hair at Jon’s temple. So soft. He took a tentative step closer, gently twisting his fingers in Jon’s hair and pulling his head back before touching his lips to the younger man’s.

Jon pulled back as though burned, “Ugh! Don’t kiss me now...I have puke breath!”

“You think I care about that, baby?” Richie chuckled softly before claiming his lips once more. 

Richie shifted his stance and deepened the kiss as Jon’s arms went around his shoulders. He slipped the hand that wasn’t buried in Jon’s hair, down over his shoulders and back to that perfect ass he’d been thinking about constantly for the past few weeks. He splayed his hand over the cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his palm as the muscle beneath clenched and released. Richie couldn’t hold back the groan that bubbled up because of it.

Time stood still as Richie drew sighs and frustrated whimpers from the man in his arms. Fingers grasped and muscles danced as their kisses ebbed and flowed like the waves crashing on the shore not too far away from where they stood. Richie had kissed a lot of people but none compared to the sweet deliciousness of Jon’s lips.

Richie relinquished that sweetness reluctantly and slowly opened his eyes.

Jon’s hair sparkled with a fairy-spun web of raindrops and his lips were moist and plump from his kisses. The only reason Richie knew his heart was still beating was because of the heavy pulse of it in his cock and he couldn’t remember the last time he consciously took a breath. However it wouldn’t have mattered, for as soon as Jon opened his sapphire blue eyes, his breath caught in his throat anyway.

It was a moment of crystalline clarity that Richie realised that he’d been missing something from his life. 

Love.


	9. Chapter 9

JON

The humiliation burned hot through him as he escaped the bathroom after Richie rejected him for the second time that night. He skirted around the edge of the club walls, sticking to the shadows to avoid David and the inevitable questions and escaped into the cool, damp air. He made it across the street, unconsciously heading toward home before the tears couldn’t be held back any longer.

“Jon! Wait up.” 

He was about two blocks away from the club when Richie had caught up with him, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face him.

“Why’d you take off like that? Where are you going?”

“Home,” Jon mumbled. He shrugged off Richie’s hand and started to walk again. He didn’t want Richie to see that he’d been crying. 

”Jonny! Can you just stop and listen for a minute?” Richie reached for Jon again, holding onto him this time.

“It’s okay, Rich. I understand. You don’t have to explain anything,” Jon mumbled with a shrug, “You...don’t want me. I get it.”

“Obviously I do have to explain,” Richie snarled, “because if you think I don’t want you, you’re dead wrong!”

“You said so yourself in the restroom,” Jon exclaimed, the pain in his voice was clearly evident.

Richie groaned and huffed out a frustrated breath which billowed between them.

“No!” he exclaimed heatedly, “What I said was I didn’t want to give you a quick fuck in a nightclub restroom! You’re not one of Al’s clients I service, for fuck’s sake. They deserve that, you don’t!” 

Jon shuffled his feet as he tried to remember Richie’s exact words, but the fog of alcohol and whatever drugs had been hidden in the drinks made it difficult to concentrate.

“Jonny...you said earlier at home that you trusted me, right?” Richie said softly.

He did trust Richie! He was probably the singular person he’d felt most comfortable with to trust. Especially with something as important to him as opening himself up to someone again; being vulnerable again.

“I care about you too damned much to ever want to betray that trust,” Richie exclaimed, “I don’t ever want to cause you any more pain than you’ve already gone through.”

Jon eyed Richie cautiously but he remained silent. He didn’t know if he could speak even if he wanted to. 

“You deserve so much more…,” Richie murmured and gently pulled Jon closer. 

Jon let out a small grunt of surprise as Richie dropped his head to kiss him but then remembered he’d thrown up not 20 minutes beforehand.

“Ugh! Don’t kiss me! I have puke breath!” he gasped in horror.

“You think I care about that, baby?” Richie’s eyes were darkly serious, never wavering from Jon’s.

As their mouths met again, Jon couldn’t help himself from threading his arms around Richie’s neck. It wasn’t too long before he felt the moist heat from Richie’s tongue as it swept along the crease of Jon’s mouth and he tentatively opened to welcome it. 

With another kiss, that up until this very moment Jon had only believed existed in Hollywood and fairy tales, it had his head spinning and heart thumping. But more importantly, it felt like his soul was finally peaceful.

Subconsciously he rose to his tiptoes, whimpering when his body brushed against Richie’s jean-clad erection. For once the arousal he felt from the act was an eagerly welcomed reaction and not something to be reviled.

“Unh…,” Richie gasped. He dropped his head to Jon’s shoulder and buried his face against his neck. Jon sighed, angling his neck to encourage Richie’s exploration with his mouth as his hands traversed Jon’s body.

“Richie!” Jon couldn’t drag the air deep enough into his lungs.

“Yeah?” he mumbled against Jon’s neck.

Oh god! Jon thought, if this is a dream, don’t ever let me wake up.

“Show me?” Jon said as his fingers clutched at Richie’s hair as each lick and nibble at his throat stoked the flames of his need.

“Show you what, baby?”

“Show me what it’s like?”

Somewhere in his thoughts over the past months, he’d come to believe that Richie would be the perfect one to help him get over his trepidation with sex. He was never expecting to fall in love with him, however.

“What do you want from me, Jonny?” Richie straightened and hooked his finger under Jon’s chin.

“I want...I want you to show me what sex is like when,” Jon met Richie’s eyes, “when I care about the person I’m with.”

He lost himself in the inky depths of Richie’s dark eyes as they stood silent in the chill of the early morning. 

“Oh baby,” Richie whispered, “You...care about me?”

Jon nodded as a small smile played over his lips. Richie’s thumb rubbed over his chin, gently pulling at his bottom lip. He’d never seen Richie so unsure of himself before. 

“A lot actually,” Jon ventured before continuing in a rush, “And...and I thought that because of… of what you do, you could...you know...help me.”

As soon as that sentence was out of his mouth, Jon knew he’d fucked up. It sounded worse than what he was intending it to be and his hunch was confirmed when Richie inhaled sharply and cocked his eyebrow at him.

“Wow!” Richie huffed, “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not, babe?”

“Ahh fuck!” Jon swore, “That...that’s not how it was supposed to come out, Rich. You gotta believe me. I-“

Jon’s words were halted when Richie clamped his hand over his mouth with a chuckle and a shake of his head, “I’d quit while I was ahead, babe.”

Jon sighed with relief as the telltale crinkles at the side of Richie’s eyes appeared. “I’m honoured, Jonny, that you have that much faith in me. It’s also part of the reason that I don’t think it’s wise that we do anything tonight.”

“But it’s gotta be tonight, Rich, please! Don’t you see?!” Jon said after pulling Richie’s hand from his mouth, “I want to put the final nail in the coffin of Jon Bongiovi; sexually abused foster kid stuck in a fucked-up system.” 

He tore from Richie’s grasp and stalked a few paces away then turned back, raking his hands through his hair. He needed to make Richie see how important this was to him and that he wasn’t too drunk or high to make this decision. He wanted this. He wanted Richie. Badly.

God, how he wished he could start this whole conversation over again. That was his epiphany moment. He’d start over and make things right. 

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt but I saw you standing there by yourself, so I took a chance to come to say hello.”

“Hi, I’m Jon,” he said holding his hand out to Richie who took it in a bemused handshake. Jon never let his hand go, however, preferring to caress the skin beneath his thumb as he softly grasped Richie’s hand. He continued.

“It’s my birthday tonight. I’m 18 and an independent adult now. I have a job at a music store that I love and a home with an awesome dude who is really cute and sexy. He makes me laugh and he makes me feel safe and loved.” He looked at Richie trying to convey the sincerity of his words.

“He looks a lot like you do, actually. I’ve been watching you for a while now and I think...no, I know I really, really like you and I was wondering if you’d like to sleep with me tonight?”

Jon held his breath as Richie stood there regarding him with those velvety dark eyes. 

Richie’s Adam’s apple bobbed over a hard swallow before he spoke.

“Nice to meet you, Jon,” Richie replied, “I’m Richie.” Richie moved his hand to link his fingers between Jon’s, bringing their hands up so he could kiss Jon’s knuckles. “And you’re not interrupting, by the way.”

“You know...you look like this kid that I used to know. Came barreling into my life one night. He was all scrawny and beat up and jumped at his own shadow. He had a bad habit of apologising all the time too. Annoyed the fucking shit outta me.”

Jon, embarrassed, grinned bashfully and ducked his head.

“He had the shittiest past though. But you know what?” Richie said as he tucked some hair around Jon’s ear, “He was so easy to love. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him.” 

The brush of his knuckles against his cheek sent shivers down Jon’s spine. Jon inhaled deeply trying to calm himself and concentrate on what Richie was saying. He had a feeling that something momentous was going to happen.

“I fell pretty hard for him actually.” 

Richie had paused and Jon thought his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

“But I didn’t think it was such a good idea to pursue him since he’d been fucked up pretty badly. So I tried to hide how much he’d affected me.”

Richie huffed wryly and with a shake of his head, rolled his eyes heavenward.

“Thought I was doing a pretty good job of it too. Guess I wasn’t fooling anyone but myself. Everyone around me could see it,” Richie nibbled on his bottom lip in thought for a moment, frowning. “My lover could even see it... so he left… tonight.”

“Nikki?” Jon breathed, “He left? Then… what he said in the alley… you… you’re my present.”

Richie nodded with a small smile.

“Did you love him?” 

”I thought I did. A long time ago maybe. It’s okay though because he left to be with someone he’d met too.”

“Ah Rich,” Jon said, cupping his face as he tried to see any hint of sadness but couldn’t see a trace.

“Sooo…,” Richie grinned suddenly, “now that you’ve heard my whole sorry tale of woe, one question remains...my place or yours?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Richie**

After Jon had launched himself into Richie’s arms with a whoop of happiness, they walked home. They were strolling hand in hand through the night enjoying being together freely, stopping to kiss in the shadows of the buildings as they passed through their neighbourhood.

Richie pulled Jon to a stop outside their apartment building, standing between Jon and the door. He needed to make certain that this was what Jon really wanted. Bending his head, he kissed the blonde in his arms sweetly.

“So...um...fuck, I’m nervous,” he said in a nervous huff of breath, “Are you sure you really want this, baby?”

“The only thing I’ve been surer of, was having to leave that nightmare of a life that night,” Jon said, his hands resting on Richie’s hips, pulling him closer, “I want this, Richie. More importantly...I want you!”

Richie studied Jon intently for a moment, searching for any sign of hesitation but seeing only determination softened with happiness. With that, Richie set his mind to make this a memorable night.

With an excited grin, he gave Jon a quick kiss and said, “Wait down here for five minutes, okay?”

“But-,” Jon started to say before Richie silenced him again with another swift kiss.

“Please...just...trust me.”

“With my life, Rich.”

Richie felt everything swirl around inside him. He couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling was because he’d never felt anything like it before, even with Nikki. Fuck! He crushed Jon in a hug and took off upstairs to their apartment.

He took to the stairs, two at a time, and let himself inside their apartment leaving the door unlocked behind him. 

He moved swiftly about the small space; loading the record player with his favourite Led Zeppelin LP, the volume appropriately low to set the mood and for 4 am in the morning. Lighting a few candles in the living room before moving into the bedroom to do the same, he also straightened the bed and made sure the lube and condoms were close by, just in case.

Reaching into his discarded jacket pocket he found the vials of amyl nitrite that he’d bought before Jon had kissed him in the club, and tucked them away in a small wooden box on the floor near the bed. He usually used them on the job but they might come in handy if Jon truly wanted to go through with this.

Standing, he surveyed the room quickly. Damn it, he’d never worried about this kind of shit for anyone else before.

With a shake of his head, Richie left the bedroom and was in the process of uncorking a cheap bottle of wine when he heard their front door open. He quickly poured two glasses with shaking hands when he heard Jon gasp and close the door.

“Richie?”

“Right here, Jonny,” he said and emerged from their small kitchen holding the glasses. He handed one to Jon after he’d shrugged out of his jacket and had thrown it haphazardly over the back of the couch.

“Did you do all of this in five minutes?” Jon asked as he took the wine offered.

Richie had to grin when Jon almost gulped the whole glass in one go. So it looks like he’s not the only one who is nervous. Good!

“That’s the only thing I’ll do fast for the rest of the night,” Richie said moving closer to Jon and coming to a stop close behind him, “We have the rest of the night to take things…slowly.” He just stood quietly behind Jon, absorbing his warmth and sipping his wine. 

Jon gave a full-body shiver and gulped nervously at the remainder of his wine.

“Tsk, tsk, Jonny,” Richie said, “I only just got you sober on the walk home.” He took the glass from Jon, still standing behind him, and placed both glasses on the closest surface.

He trailed his fingertips over Jon’s shoulder and down his arm, linking their fingers together and placing their joined hands over Jon’s stomach, his other resting on Jon’s hip. They both stood silently, expectantly.

“Dance with me,” Richie said softly into Jon’s ear. 

Holding Jon close against him, spine to sternum, he started moving ever so slightly to the music. Richie closed his eyes and breathed deeply, his nose almost buried in Jon’s hair, as the heady combination of the younger man and the music infuse into him. 

He nuzzled his nose through Jon’s hair, along the collar of the t-shirt and placed small kisses along the exposed skin. Jon squeezed Richie’s fingers and a breathy whimper escaped his lips. Richie grinned to himself and, with his free hand, swept aside more of Jon’s hair to expose his neck to Richie’s open-mouthed kisses. Jon’s stomach clenched beneath their joined hands when grazed his teeth along his skin.

“There’s no rush, baby,” he whispered to Jon, “we’ll go as slow as you want to go. Understand me?” Moving to the music, his hips brushed against Jon’s ass in sweet torture.

Jon barely nodded, his breath coming out in sharp pants, “Richie….”

“Shhh,” he replied, “I know, Jonny, I know. I promise...I’ll look after you.” He continued to lead Jon in a slow dance, feeling, judging Jon’s levels of comfort and arousal.

He continued to torment Jon’s neck as he slowly moved their combined hands lower down Jon’s belly, past the fastening of his jeans, both their knuckles brushing over Jon’s erection.

“Oh god,” Jon panted as his head dropped to the side giving Richie free reign to explore further, his hips moving restlessly between Richie’s hips and his hand.

Richie moved his free hand from his neck, over his shoulder to his chest. His fingers sought out the young contoured muscle, brushing softly over the hidden nipples that rent a groan from Jon.

“Remember, baby,” Richie murmured hotly, “You have the control here. You have the right to say no...I will respect your word.” 

He noticed that Jon’s Adam’s apple bobbed forcefully and his lips parted on a sigh, his eyes half-lidded.

“You can tell me stop anytime,” he paraphrased himself. He needed Jon to acknowledge it because, by god, he was not going to be a monster.

Jon shook his head and Richie’s stomach dropped briefly until he spoke, the need in his voice clearly as evident as the heavy erection held prisoner against its will in his jeans. “Richie…please...show me,” he cried as a lone tear tracked down his cheek, “Love me...”

Richie’s resolve faltered and crumbled. He dropped Jon’s hand and spun him around to face him. There was a moment of stillness before they both reached for each other. Lips crushed between them and teeth clashed as they grappled with the ferocity of their feelings. 

Jon tore at Richie’s shirt, buttons flying into the living room as Richie peeled Jon’s T-shirt from his torso. Richie batted Jon’s hands away from his jeans button and dropped to his knees before him.

Richie gripped Jon’s ass cheeks in each of his hands and drew him closer so that he could lay hot, open-mouthed kisses over the skin of his belly. As he kneaded the fleshy globes in his hands Richie felt Jon thread his fingers through his hair and push his head down, his hips starting to move restlessly.

Taking Jon’s cue, Richie rubbed his face against Jon’s still-clothed cock, eliciting a gasp as he rocked against Richie. He gently scratched his fingernails, just above the waistband, from Jon’s spine to the brass button on his jeans, enjoying the play of muscle before his eyes. Before he popped the button, Richie looked up to Jon, brown eyes meeting blue in a silent question. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Richie asked.

Jon gazed down at him. Richie felt his fingers curl tighter in his hair, the pull of it biting his scalp. As soon as Jon mouthed a silent ‘No’, Richie released the breath he’d been holding and finally slipped the brass disc through the hole and drew the pull of the zipper down carefully.

His mouth watered in anticipation. He did love sucking cock and to be able to finally discover Jon’s flavours was sweet torture. Richie inhaled Jon’s musk deeply and sighed, licking his lips. He pushed the fabric down Jon’s legs, letting it pool just below his knees as neither of them had gotten as far as taking their shoes off.

“Oh darlin’,” Richie breathed in admiration. He’d seen Jon naked on several occasions but to finally be able to touch and taste him was amazing.

Mentally, unconsciously, he ran through his visual checklist for any diseases even though he knew Jon had never had any lovers since he’d been at Richie’s and he hated himself for doing it but it had kept him clean and safe thus far. Diseases were a hazard on his job but he got checked regularly and if his clients looked as though they might be a carrier, he either insisted on condoms for them both or called it off completely with Al’s understanding.

Richie ran his hands over the smattering of dark hair covering Jon’s legs and grinned lasciviously as he met Jon’s blue eyes again. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this, Richie baby,” Jon murmured.

“Oh god…,” Richie breathed, “Say it again.”

Jon gave him the sweetest smile and rubbed his fingertips against Richie’s scalp as he said softly, “Richie baby….”

Digging his nails into the soft skin at the back of Jon’s thighs, he ran the tip of his tongue from base to tip along the heavily pulsating vein. 

“Ahh fuck!” Jon groaned. 

Richie glanced upward at him. Besides feeling Jon’s legs shaking, his head was lolled to one side and his mouth gaping as he watched Richie lavish attention on his body.

_Dear God, please let me show him how love is supposed to be_ , Richie thought as he circled the velvety head and lapped at the beads of ambrosia Jon was offering him. It was the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted, male or female. 

Wrapping his mouth around Jon completely, finally, he took him in fully, seemingly unable to get enough. His own body was protesting the lack of attention but he was determined to make Jon his priority and it would be all the sweeter when he did get his release.

Richie’s hands worked in symphony with his lips and tongue to bring Jon to the edge only to deny him moments before he tipped into oblivion.

“Wha-?!” Jon gasped as Richie sat back on his heels.

“Jonny...listen to me,” Richie said as he distracted Jon’s hands from reaching for himself. 

“Richie baby...please,” Jon whined.

“Use me, baby,” he said, “I want you to fuck my mouth... however you want it.”

“What?” Jon gaped, “No… I can’t!”

“You can and you will. I can take it. You won’t break me and I won’t retaliate,” Richie said, placing soothing kisses against Jon’s thigh, “I need you to take back control and exorcise that demon, Jonny.”

“Why?”

“Because when I make love to you the way you deserve it, I want to know that it’s _ME_ ,” Richie cried vehemently, pounding his chest, “that you see loving you, not those animals that hurt you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Jon**

“Use me, baby,” Richie said, “I want you to fuck my mouth however you want it.”

“What?” Jon gaped in shock, “No... I can’t!”

Sure he wanted to feel Richie’s mouth wrapped around his dick again but what Richie was asking, he wasn’t sure if he could do that. 

“You can and you will. I can take it. You won’t break me and I won’t retaliate,” Richie said, placing soothing kisses against Jon’s thigh, “I need you to take back control and exorcise that demon, Jonny.”

“Why?” he asked because he didn’t think he understood Richie’s meaning. His fingers made their way through Richie’s hair for nothing more than the sole pleasure of it.

“Because when I make love to you the way you deserve it, I want to know that it’s _ME_ ,” Richie said vehemently, pounding his chest, “that you see loving you, not those animals that hurt you.”

_When I make love to you...me loving you..._ Those words pulsed through him with each beat of his heart. Now he understood.

“I could never mistake those monsters for you,” Jon said with a humourless smile, toeing off his shoes and shucking his jeans off his feet. Jon crooked his fingers at Richie indicating to stand and reached for his hand to bring him from his knees. 

When they were on equal footing again Jon laid his palm on the middle of Richie’s chest, just above his heart and said, “All I have to do is look into your eyes and see the way you smile when you say my name and I’ll know it’s you.”

“Jon, I—.”

“Shh. I want to forget _‘them’_ ,” Jon said placing his finger over Richie’s lips, “I want to remember _you_...this moment.”

Richie was quiet for a moment, contemplative, before placing his hand over Jon’s and said, “If that’s what you want, baby.” 

Taking Jon’s hand Richie kissed the palm, as he had done earlier, but continued to the pulse point in Jon’s wrist, travelling further up his arm. Like a puppet on a string, Jon couldn’t help but move ever closer, shivering slightly as his naked, needy cock brushed over the worn fabric encasing Richie’s lower half.

“One of us seems to be overdressed,” Jon murmured. 

He trailed his hand down Richie’s smooth stomach to the fastenings of his jeans and with fingers that trembled slightly, he released the button and zipper and Richie shimmied out of his jeans seemingly by magic, leaving them both standing, incongruously, only in their socks. 

Jon took advantage of the moment when Richie groaned and dropped his head back, to lick a hot path down the column of his neck before feasting upon the smooth, freckled expanse of chest before him, suckling at the dusky nipples. 

He tasted exactly as Jon had imagined; darkly sweet and smoky with undertones of sweat, weed and sex. Fuck, he could drown in this man and readily meet his maker.

“Jon…,” Richie breathed and sunk his hand into Jon’s hair to pull him away from his task, “I’m done talking.”

Jon’s breath hitched and his lips parted for a brief moment before Richie’s mouth clamped over his again, his tongue delving deep into Jon’s mouth. Jon yelped a little as he felt Richie scoop him up beneath his ass and move toward the bedroom as Robert Plant wailed along to Page’s guitar. 

Jon held on, clinging on with arms and legs, as they stumbled through their sparsely furnished apartment, rebounding off the bedroom door frame before they both tumbled onto Richie’s bed in a tangle of limbs.

Jon arched his neck and, by instinct, guided Richie’s mouth to the spot just below his ear. When Richie’s lips touched that spot he had to fight for control of his own body and accidentally sunk his nails into the flesh beneath his fingers.

“Oh god,” Jon groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Richie stopped his examination of Jon’s neck, propping himself up on one elbow as his free hand continued south through the crisp hair on Jon’s torso.

“Your bed is so soft compared to the couch,” he grinned.

Richie smiled, his dark eyes softened, “No more sleeping on the couch for you. You can sleep here,” he said softly, “If you want, of course.”

“Oh I want…,” he replied and pulled Richie down to him again as Richie’s fingers explored through his thatch of pubes, shivering when his knuckles brushed against his neglected cock. 

When he felt a moist warmth against his hip, brushing and bouncing as its owner’s hand stroked him, Jon maneuvered his arm between their bodies and wrapped his fist around Richie. Jon grinned to himself when Richie groaned into his mouth when his thumb brushed over the head, smoothing the copious slippery fluid around the velvety tip.

“Fuck…,” Richie gasped after a moment or two, shifting on the bed, leaving Jon lamenting the lack of warmth, “Roll over, babe.” 

Jon did what he was told, grabbing a pillow to squish beneath his head. Peering over his shoulder he saw Richie, sitting on his haunches, his cock standing proudly from the crisp curls at the juncture of his legs, watching Jon with unabashed hunger, his eyes raked over him as he settled himself and his straining erection in amongst the bedding. 

Something flittered over Richie’s face. Something sad that Jon couldn’t quite grasp the reason for.

“Whatcha looking at, Rich?” Jon asked.

“How often do you see your back in the mirror?” he asked with a small frown creasing between his eyes.

Jon just shook his head in a negative answer. 

Richie shifted to kneel between Jon’s thighs before he felt his touch along the back of his legs. Random, gentle touches, tracing circles and stripes as he moved further up along Jon’s back. “All these…,” he murmured.

Then it dawned on Jon. They were old cigarette burns and scars from the many thrashings he’d been on the receiving end of. Before he could reply, however, he felt the welcomed weight of Richie laying down, covering him, fitting with him completely. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. Jon wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it or not. He chose to stay silent.

He laid utterly still, just letting himself feel. It was as though they were both waiting for some negative reaction from him but there was none. All he felt was peace. He sighed deeply, happily.

Then the brush of Richie’s lips over his shoulders and the molten heat emanating from Richie’s cock nestled between his ass cheeks bought him back to the present and like a punch to the gut, desire hit him with full force.

Jon felt himself melt into the bed as Richie proceeded to anoint each of his scars with kisses and his fingers sought out nipples to tease or ass cheeks to squeeze until his mouth found the top of Jon’s ass crease. He arched up to the moist warmth of his mouth and was rewarded with a low growl from Richie.

“Rich, baby, please...I need you,” Jon begged piteously. 

He was leaking copiously over the bedding beneath him and his skin felt like it was on fire with every touch Richie gave him. He restlessly clutched at the sheets, legs shifting apart or underneath him, as he could see the finish line of his climax on multiple occasions only to have the line disappear when Richie used all his street experience to haul him back to the start again.

“Soon, Jonny,” came the reply as Richie lent over the side of the bed, retrieving a small box from the floor. “I have something that will help,” Richie said as Jon heard a clink of glass before Richie put the box back.

“What are they?” he asked rolling to his side to see that Richie had laid two small vials beside them along with condoms and lube. He picked up one of the nondescript vials and shook the liquid inside.

“Poppers...amyl nitrite,” Richie grinned as he tore the wrapper from a condom and quickly rolled it down his length. 

“It’ll help relax that hot little ass of yours while I’m stretching you out, and ease the pain if there is any,” he continued, “But I’ve done this once or twice so you shouldn’t feel anything but immense pleasure.” He leaned forward over Jon’s body and kissed him deeply.

“Lie back, baby, and let me rock your world,” he mumbled against his lips he pushed Jon into position on his back, pulling a pillow down from the top of the bed to go under his hips. 

Jon was reaching for himself but Richie placed one of the vials in his fingers instead, “Snap the top off when I tell you to and inhale it,” he said as he ran his hands slowly up Jon’s legs, placing tender kisses on the inside of his thighs as he spread them wide.

Jon hadn’t felt this exposed to anyone since he left the Horror House. He wasn’t afraid, however, because when he looked up at the man between his legs, he knew he was safe.

“Ah baby,” Richie murmured, licking his lips as he ran his thumb over Jon’s rosy entrance, “just stunning.”

He flipped the lid on the lube and coated his fingers generously and drizzled some over Jon’s body. Richie moved as close as he could to Jon, bracketing his hips with his legs, his cock laying along the crease of Jon’s leg and his fingers never ceased their light circling and pressing, getting Jon used to the sensations.

Jon hadn’t even realised that Richie had broached his body until the digit brushed experimentally over his inside walls. It was just a gentle ebb and flow kind of pace, like the ocean at low tide as it came in shyly to kiss the sand before retreating.

“This okay, baby?” Richie asked. 

His other hand wasn’t idle either, as it alternated between stroking his cock, rolling his balls in his palm or up against Jon’s body, or even more mind-blowing, holding both dicks as his hips rolled in time with his fingers, letting them brush against each other.

“When did...you...I….” Jon’s brain had trouble grasping and holding onto one coherent thought, let alone getting those words out of his mouth. 

Richie just grinned down at him, “Told you I’d done this once or twice.” 

Richie swiped his fingers through the cooling puddle of pre-cum on Jon's belly, licked them clean then did the same again, offering his fingers to Jon. As Jon took them into his mouth, suckling them, tasting himself, he felt a slight sting as Richie added a second or was it the third finger, he wasn’t sure anymore. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, apart from the fact that he was edging closer and closer to losing his mind. Jon couldn’t help himself as his hips started moving restlessly, meeting the questing fingers.

“That’s it, baby,” Richie murmured and Jon groaned when he curled his fingers, brushing over the hidden spongy patch, “Ride my fingers, Jonny. Show me what feels good.”

Jon couldn’t hold back the little mewl as the curl of heat pooled low in his belly.

“Jesus...fuck…,” Richie breathed, “Are you gonna come from doing this, baby?”

Jon gasped and nodded. He felt like his whole body was on fire, the small sparks ignited from Richie’s touches over his body inflamed by the touch of this other hand within his body.

“Oh...god...Riiich, plea-please,” Jon begged, looking for an end to this sweet torture.

“Shh baby,” he soothed and placed the discarded vial back into his hands, “You’ll need this, sweetheart.” 

“Oh-kay,” he breathed and took the vial in his shaking hand.

He withdrew his fingers with a whimper from Jon before drizzling more lube over them both. Jon winced a little at the cold, before Richie smoothed it, warming it with his fingers.

“Jonny...snap the top and breathe it in deeply,” Richie instructed.

He nodded and snapped the thin glass at its breaking point. He held it to his nose and inhaled the pungent fumes. A warmth immediately infused his body and his taut muscles relaxed noticeably. The vial slipped from his fingers as the room distorted and righted itself.

He gasped, arching off the bed sharply as Richie’s cock pushed through the still-relaxing muscle leaving them both breathless. Something dark flitted across Jon’s consciousness making him shiver violently.

“Fuck...Jonny,” Richie said through clenched jaws, “You okay, baby? Look at me?” Richie had placed a palm in the centre of Jon’s chest and held it there.

Jon shook his head slightly to try and clear his vision before reaching desperately for Richie. Trembling, he curled his fingers through the dark hair and gripped the back of Richie’s neck, drawing him down, needing to feel his weight anchor him to the bed before his ultimate annihilation. He was completely at Richie’s mercy.

“Richie…please…,” Jon pleaded, his body moving restlessly beneath the brunette, his thighs gripping Richie’s hips earnestly, “unh...fuck...want you.” 

“Fuck, Jonny,” Richie moaned, “Hold on, baby, I gotcha.” 

Their mouths met in a quick, heated exchange before Richie pushed up onto his hands, settling himself into a comfortable position before rolling his hips and pushing himself, slowly, further into Jon.

He whined, frustrated, as Richie set a maddeningly slow pace. Jon grasped at anything his hands touched; himself, the sheets or Richie. His legs tangled around and between Richie’s slightly longer ones, pulling him closer. 

His hands roamed across his warm flesh; up over biceps and shoulders, down his spine and raking his fingernails over the mounds of his ass as Richie shifted again, changing the angle so that with each thrust was like an arrow hitting its target.

“Rich...pl- oh god,” Jon begged, biting his bottom lip and matching Richie’s thrusts with urgent rolls of his hips.

“Fuck!” Richie searched for the second vial and lowered himself down to one elbow and kissed Jon deeply, slowly, and snapped the top off the vial and holding it close to their faces, letting the vapours mingle with their breaths.

“Ungh…,” Jon groaned long and low when the chemical receptors in his brain snapped with the inhaled drug, his lips parting on a puff of breath as he imploded into a million tiny sparkling shards of light when his orgasm crashed over him. His eyes rolled back and his limbs went lax momentarily before his body spasmed with each burst of cum over his belly.

“That’s it, baby,” Richie murmured his encouragement in Jon’s ear, nibbling on the delicate shell. “Jesus...fucking bare down, baby, and tighten- oh fuck...yes, yes!” he cried a few moments later as his climax took him over the edge also.

Jon lay there, unable and unwilling to move as their bodies went through the final throes of their orgasms. 

Mentally, he was trying to hold onto a solid thought for more than a fleeting moment. 

One minute he wanted to shout with happiness from the rooftop but then in an instant, he felt a deep sadness for the boy that he had been and the life he’d been left to by a birth mother that cared nothing for the child she’d bought into the world.

He’d been abandoned at the tender age of four, just old enough to remember some of the confusion of that day. 

Jon had been left in the care of a babysitter who had rung the police after his mother failed to show up again at the end of the day. He remembered sitting on the couch, crying for his mother’s return, as two policemen spoke with the sitter. From that day forth, it had been a rollercoaster of foster homes with the Horror House being the end of the ride. He never found out what happened to his mother.

“Jonny?” Richie’s voice broke through his reverie, “Babe...shit, you’re crying. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Jon looked up into the face that he’d grown to love and saw the confusion and worry creasing Richie’s brow. He shook his head in the negative, mouthing a silent ‘No’ before drawing a shuddery breath and swallowing the sob that was bubbling just below the surface for that abandoned boy who was no longer.


	12. Chapter 12

**Richie**

“Ahh Jonny,” Richie said tenderly brushing some hair from Jon's face, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

The first blush of sunrise had just tainted the sky in dusky purples as the couple laid together in the aftermath of their joining. The candles had long since flickered and died out, consumed by their own wax and the record spun silently on the spindle.

Richie had softened and slipped from Jon before efficiently disposing of the condom. He then fetched a washcloth from the bathroom and gently cleaned Jon up before finally climbing back into bed. Jon had immediately snuggled into him after Richie had pulled up the bedding over them both. He’d been relatively silent since they’d fucked and Richie was worried that he’d hurt Jon in some way or even more disturbing, battling those demons in his head. 

Jon had his head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns as the dawn rose over the buildings. Richie’s fingers were sifting through Jon’s hair, occasionally snagging on a knot but soothing the scalp with a gentle touch.

“Just thinkin’,” he sighed.

“About?” Richie asked.

Jon shifted onto his elbow to face him. Jon smiled up at him before reaching up to softly kiss him before saying, “I used to think someone like you only existed in my dreams.”

“Someone like me?” Richie eyed him curiously.

“Yeah,” Jon said as he caressed Richie’s face, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, “The someone that gives me a reason to smile every day now.”

Richie was profoundly touched by Jon’s words but chose to not cause a fuss over it. Instead, he nipped playfully at his thumb and was rewarded with one of Jon’s mega-watt smiles, the kind that made his stomach flip and his heart beat just a little faster. He noted Jon’s eyes had darkened slightly as he watched his thumb disappear into Richie’s mouth and when he flicked his tongue over the pad of the digit, Jon’s lips parted on a silent breath.

Richie grasped Jon’s wrist and pulled the thumb reluctantly from his mouth. “I know where that thought was going, baby, and as much as I’d love to follow through with that...you need sleep. We both do.”

“Aww, do I ha-,” Jon’s words were stolen by a jaw-cracking yawn and Richie couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think you got your answer right there,” he chuckled. 

“I must admit,” Jon mumbled sleepily around another yawn as he lay his head back down on Richie’s chest, “It’ll be nice to sleep in a bed again.”

He smiled as Jon’s breathing quickly evened out as he continued to play with his hair. He thought Jon was asleep until he heard him mumble sleepily, “Love you, Rich.”

He stilled momentarily until a soft snore indicated that Jon had finally passed out. He let out a shaky breath as he contemplated the magnitude of Jon’s declarations. 

The human spirit was a magical thing. How else could you explain the fact that Jon had been cast aside from family after family, only to be brutally abused by not only those people but by the whole bureaucratic system and yet he is still able to be a kind and loving person. Richie couldn’t stop the tear escaping down his cheek even if he wanted to, as he pulled Jon just that little bit closer.

Even though it had been Jon’s birthday, Richie felt as though he’d been the one dealt the most beautiful gift of all. He tried to stay awake as long as possible as he relished the feeling of the younger man curled against him, however, he never even saw the sun crest over the buildings moments later or peek through the drapes as he blissfully succumbed to sleep.

*~*

Richie woke with a start several hours later and knew by instinct that it was probably mid-afternoon and after peering at the clock with bleary eyes, the harsh luminous clock display confirmed it. 

He lay there, head cloudy from sleep or lack thereof, and a touch of hangover as he tried to fight consciousness and his insistent full bladder. There was something gnawing at him though; something...important. He stretched his limbs with a yawn, feeling the languidness of sleep escape him when it occurred to him.

Jon! He wasn’t in bed. He wasn’t in bed with him.

He sat up suddenly and looked to the place he knew Jon had occupied earlier at the same time as he heard music and movement from outside the closed bedroom door. 

He couldn’t ignore his bladder any longer so took the few steps to the bathroom, wrestling with his semi-aroused body as he finished his ablutions. He smiled fondly as he heard Jon start to sing along with the Abbey Road album, his favourite. Grabbing a pair of sweats, he lit a cigarette and he left the bedroom to find Jon, which wasn’t hard considering the size of their apartment and his voice echoing from the kitchen.

Richie stopped in the doorway and leaned up against the jamb, grinning at the sight of Jon in Richie’s shirt from last night and absolutely nothing else as he cooked some scrambled eggs and danced along to ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’.

Yep, he just went from a persistent semi-hard to full-blown hard-on in one glance.

“Are you just gonna stand there staring at my ass all afternoon?” Jon said without turning around, “Or do you wanna make some coffee?”

“Oh, I’m happy staring,” he replied as he shouldered off the doorjamb, taking the few steps to Jon, slipping an arm around his waist and pulled him up against him. 

“It’s a sweet-looking ass, baby,” he whispered in Jon’s ear, “How did you know I was there?”

He couldn’t help but roll his hips against Jon’s ass and slipping his cigarette-free hand inside the shirt opening just to feel the skitter of muscle beneath his palm when he touched Jon.

“Yo-your cigarette,” Jon breathed and leaned back against him a little, “I smelled it as soon as you came from the bedroom.” 

Richie held the said cigarette to Jon’s lips and watched him inhale deeply from it before turning his head to release the smoke away from the food as ‘Oh! Darlin’’ spilled from the speakers in the next room.

Their eyes met as Lennon’s soulful pleas for trust and belief swirled around them softly. Richie let the words of Lennon and McCartney convey everything he was thinking and feeling until the smell of burning food tore his gaze away from Jon’s crystalline baby blues.

“Jonny?”

“Uh-huh?”

“The eggs...they’re burning.”

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed with a grin and quickly reached for the pan and moved it off the heat, salvaging as much as possible.

“We should eat while they’re hot,” Jon suggested, regret deeply tinting his words.

The ever-mounting sexual tension between them had been broken momentarily. 

“I guess…,” Richie agreed, stubbing out his cigarette in the empty sink. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved, however, but he nodded in agreement and dug out two mismatched dishes regardless.

Jon dished up two plates of slightly over-cooked eggs and they ate where they stood, in their various states of undress, each stealing glances at the other as the quirky Octopus’s Garden finished.

The eggs turned to cardboard in his mouth when he recognised the bluesy I Want You intro. He managed to swallow the mouthful that he had been chewing, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, before placing his plate very, very deliberately on the counter. He then reached for Jon’s plate, taking it mid-scoop, and let it rest with its mismatched mate.

It was a simple song, very few words lyrically, but the melodies and inflections that John Lennon gave to those fourteen repeated words conveyed a multitude of emotions. He looked at Jon, who was simply staring at him in a mix of wonder and desire, and stepped closer as he sang along with the other John.

“I want you…,” he sang placing his palms on Jon’s pectorals, feeling the nipples beneath the shirt hardening to taut nubs and his heart hammering against his ribcage, “I want you so baaaad.” 

“I want you….” He fisted his hands in the fabric of the shirt, tugging a little at the shirt and watching the play of fire in Jon’s eyes. 

“I want you so baaaad.” He pulled Jon out of the kitchen, toward the bedroom.

“It’s driving me mad, it’s driving me mad.” Richie ripped the shirt down Jon’s arms as he growled out the last words. The shirt was forgotten as soon as it left Richie’s hand to lie discarded on the floor where they stood. 

He didn’t know how he did it but he managed to get the first verse out. 

Then when Jon placed his hand in the centre of his chest, pushing Richie to the bedroom as he started singing the next verse, Richie wasn’t surprised at the raw need in Jon’s voice. 

“I want you. I want you so bad.” 

Jon’s fire-and-ice eyes seemed to bore right through him.

“I want you. I want you so baaaad, babe.”

His stomach clenched at the force in which his own took over and he grasped at Jon’s wrist at his chest as though it was burning him. 

“It’s driving me mad, it’s driving me mad.”

Jon had dropped to his knees before him. Richie would swear his heart had stopped functioning, denying oxygen to his lungs as Jon dragged his hand slowly down Richie’s torso. 

The thumping of Jon’s pulse beneath his fingers played the perfect accompaniment to the bass line of the song. It was drugging and addictive. 

He couldn’t bear to let go of the slim wrist even when Jon’s fingers curled into the loose waistband. 

Even when his sweats ended up on the floor and Jon licked his lips nervously.

Even when he tangled his other fingers into Jon’s bed-mussed hair and Jon sucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

Even when Jon looked up at him, watching him with those eyes of his as he took Richie’s length into his mouth for the first time.

He continued to hold Jon’s wrist, his fingers splayed against Richie’s lower belly as Jon laved attention to his body.

“Oh god…Jonny…,” Richie whispered.

When Jon gently shook Richie’s hold from his wrist, he felt the loss keenly, however, he used the opportunity to scoop Jon’s hair from his face to give himself a better view of his young lover.

“Ahh...yeah, yeah...just like...mmmm,” he encouraged him as the sight of Jon’s mouth wrapped around him, saliva making his lips and chin slick and shiny. 

He didn’t know how much head Jon had given freely in his life but right now he couldn’t get enough of it. His eyes slid closed in pleasure as Jon’s hands wandered over his body and his mouth brought him closer to the precipice of his orgasm. Between seeing Jon in nothing but his shirt, then the to-and-fro of the song and now to have the object of desire at his feet with his cock in his mouth...it was right there...he was almost able to reach it. 

Fuck!

“Stop! Jonny, fuck...just stop for a minute,” he gasped and pulled from Jon’s warm mouth with a whimper, “Get up on the bed, babe. I ‘m gonna come and I don’t have time to stretch you out properly so I won’t.”

“It’s okay, Rich,” Jon said, “I can swallow. I’ve done it before. Please....” He opened his mouth again, about to engulf Richie again.

Richie shook his head and pulled Jon from his knees. He kissed him deeply, tasting himself on his tongue, his own musk leaching off Jon’s skin toward his nostrils, “Not until I get tested again, baby. Now lie down...please.” 

With one hand he gave Jon a gently push onto the mattress, his other was otherwise occupied with keeping his orgasm at bay for as long as possible. No sooner was Jon on his back, Richie crawled between his knees and stroking them both as he had done earlier that morning.

Lowering himself over Jon, who immediately wrapped his legs around his waist, he buried his face into his neck as his body succumbed to the primal rhythm. With their cocks held prisoner together between their bodies, their sighs and moans mingled as one as Richie was overcome with the need to mark Jon as his so he suckled at the skin over the heavy pulse at Jon’s carotid. Jon let loose a harsh cry and arched further into the bite from Richie’s sharp teeth.

“Jonny…,” he mumbled against Jon’s sweat-soaked skin, “come with...ungh...me.” 

He’d teetered for too long, finally falling head first into oblivion as he bucked and ground himself against Jon, he came with some kind of noise that was half grunt and a half groan. From beneath him, came a strangled, keening cry of his name as Jon climaxed and their bellies became smeared with each other's hot, thick cream.

Richie had just enough energy to roll them both to the side, Jon was so thoroughly wrapped around him he had to physically move his leg from beneath his hip to lie comfortably.

“Oh shit…,” Richie breathed, taking great gulps of oxygen into his lungs, “that was...wow….”

Jon smiled and nodded, brushing a tendril of hair from Richie’s face. “We’re gonna need a shower,” he said softly.

“Gonna need one anyway,” Richie sighed, “I got work tonight and as much as I don’t want to wash the scent of you off my skin so soon, Al will notice. He demands a clean start to the night.” He found Jon’s hand and kissed the palm before nibbling on his fingers. 

“Oh...I...fuck...I forgot about your work,” Jon frowned and rolled to his back.

“Yeah. So did I for a moment there,” Richie said as he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Jon, “which is why I didn’t want to come in your mouth. I shouldn’t have even let you suck me for as long as you did without a condom, babe...until I get tested again.”

“But-,” Jon started.

“No buts, please,” Richie placed his finger over Jon’s mouth, replacing it with his mouth, “I’ll get it done this week, I promise, but it’s for your own health.”

“Is this gonna be a problem between us...me working?” Richie asked, “Coz the money’s too good to give up at the moment and I’m no good at doing anything else.”

“Oh I dunno...you’re a great party planner,” Jon grinned. “Seriously? I’m not sure how I feel about your work...I’m mean after...you know, today.”

“You mean after I fucked your brains out the first time?” Richie smiled, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously and the feeling of satisfaction that settled over him at Jon’s happy giggle.

“Then when I see you in nothing but my shirt cooking breakfast and the only thing I can think of is making you mine?” He touched the mark blooming darkly on Jon’s neck before leaning down to softly kiss his lips again. He couldn’t seem to get enough of him.

“Hey,” he said after they kissed again, “Wanna walk with me to the diner later? Rosie will want to know all the details from last night.”

“I could do that,” Jon smiled and pushed at Richie’s shoulder, “but shower first. Otherwise, this cum will dry and itch like the fuck in this shag carpet I’ve been suckered into.”

“But I love your shag carpet, baby,” Richie grinned and Jon scoffed mirthfully. Richie gave him a quick kiss before standing on wobbly legs, “C’mon...let me shampoo that rug for you.” He held out his hand to Jon, pulling him up and into the bathroom.

 

*~*

A few hours later after using all the hot water in the shower and falling asleep wrapped around each other, they finally left their apartment late in the evening. They walked hand in hand to the diner, oblivious to their surroundings and who happened to be watching, totally engrossed with each other.

Tumbling through the door in a giggling mess of new relationship vibes, a few diners turned to look at the cause of the commotion. Nudging each other, they tried their best to find some decorum, failing miserably and ending up giggling harder until Rosie rescued them.

“Rosie!” they chorused when the older woman appeared from the kitchen.

“So, you two...,” Rosie smiled, “seems like things have changed since last night.”

“You could say that,” Jon blushed, ducking his head a little.

“Go sit your loved-up asses down, if you can. I’ll be with you soon, boys.”

After a hearty meal, upgraded from just burgers and fries courtesy of Rosie after being updated on the past 24 hours, Richie looked at his watch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “I gotta go, Jonny. Al will be pissed if I’m late tonight.”

“S’okay,” Jon said, “You go, I want to ask Rosie something. I’ll be waiting for you at home. Stay safe, okay?”

“I promise,” Richie replied with a soft smile, “I got you to come home to now. Gotta go.” 

He pulled Jon close and kissed him, delaying his inevitable departure until he tore himself away with a groan and slid from the booth and made his way out of the diner quickly before he changed his mind.

He hurried to the regular meeting point with Al, jogging the last couple of blocks. He swore when he saw the black town car already waiting and his handler pacing beside the open back door.

“You’re making a fucking habit of being late, Sambora!” Al sneered as Richie came to a halt beside the car.

“My watch broke. Lost track of time,” Richie said with a shrug and nonchalantly lit a cigarette, “Whatcha got for me tonight, Al?”

“One high-roller. New client,” Al read out from a small notebook he’d fished from inside his jacket, “Asked for the whole night. Agreed to the usual fee. Here’s the address.” He handed across a card with the address scrawled over it.

“Damn! The whole night?” Richie complained, “I was hoping on just a few quick ones. I’d even do the street tonight. I’m not in the mood for an all-nighter.”

“You’ll fucking do the all-night,” Al snarled, poking Richie in the chest, “and you’ll fucking make it look as though you’re fucking loving every goddamn minute, you piece of shit! That’ll fucking teach you for pulling out of work last night.”

“I told you, Al,” Richie spat back, his anger starting to simmer, “It was important.”

“I don’t fucking give a damn,” Al said, “Just get to work now! Fuck this dude, make him feel like a princess if that’s what it takes, but finish the job, get the money and bring it back here when you’re done.”

“Whatever…,” Richie stamped on his cigarette and started walking away as Al climbed back into the car.

Richie didn’t like the feeling he was getting as he walked back the way he came from, turning the corner and heading through almost empty neighbourhoods to the address given. He relied on his instincts and for some reason, this was setting alarm bells off. 

Maybe it was just the altercation he’d had with Al, maybe it was the lack of sleep...maybe it was because he had Jon waiting at home for him now. He tried to shrug it off as he walked, getting into the right mindset for the night

He checked the address when he arrived and saw the run-down building. He was about to turn around and leave when he heard from behind him, “I’ve been waiting for you,” before a hand clamped over his mouth, a sickly smell crawled up his nostrils and his world went blank, the card slipping from his lax fingers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Jon**

“Richie left already?” Rosie asked as she poured Jon a coffee and cleared the table.

“Huh?” She’d startled Jon out of his daydream as he looked back over the past.

“Earth to Jon,” she teased lightly before looking around the diner and sitting down opposite him. “You got it as bad as he does, don’t you? I can see it written all over your face just as much as Richie has done for a while now.”

“It is?” Jon blinked, “How long have you known for?”

“Darlin’, you’re all he talks about when he comes here when you’re working,” Rosie offered, “I saw it almost as soon as it happened but I don’t think he realised himself until just recently.”

Jon fiddled with the salt shaker as he let the woman’s words sink in.

“Do you love him?” she asked as another customer called her over. She held up a finger to indicate that she’d heard.

Jon looked up and nodded, a smile sliding over his face.

“Good!” she exclaimed and patted his arm, “Just don’t hurt him.” She stood and made her way to the other customers.

Jon thought about how truly little he knew about Richie’s past. He’d told Jon some of what had happened but brushed off any further questioning regarding his feelings about his parents and the situation.

“Hey, Rosie?” Jon called out and waited for her to make her way over to him.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Do you know where Richie’s parents live?” Jon asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

He thought about how to word his answer for a moment, “I want to know how he grew up, I guess. He’s spoken a little about it but deflects a lot of questions when they start getting too deep. I thought if I could go see the house he grew up in, it might give me a little insight, at least.”

He didn’t want to let on that he wanted to catch a glimpse of the parents that rejected their son for his sexuality. Essentially he and Richie had both been rejected by their families, maybe under different circumstances but each as traumatic as the other.

He fidgeted a little under Rosie’s evaluating gaze until she pulled her notepad out and scribbled something on the last page and tore it out. Folding it, she slid it across the table to Jon.

“It didn’t come from me, okay?” She stood, picking up the carafe of coffee and walked off.

Jon sat there for a while longer, ruminating on Rosie’s information but also delaying the moment when he’d have to go home to an empty apartment. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slipped the paper inside at the same time as getting some cash out to pay for their meal and leave Rosie her tip. He tucked the cash under his coffee mug and waved goodbye to Rosie as he walked out the door.

It was hitting close to midnight as he stepped out into the cool night air. Shrugging the collar of his jacket up around his neck, he started walking back home as an ambulance and two police cruisers raced past. He still shrunk away a little by habit, turning his face away from the street just in case.

He walked into the apartment and threw his jacket on the sofa with a sigh. Grabbing a beer from the fridge he went back to the living room and flopped himself down on the sofa that had been his bed until last night. He ran his hands over the worn surface as he sipped his drink and pictured himself and Richie slow-dancing in front of him. With a slow smile, he dropped his head to the back of the sofa and drifted off to sleep.

He was having the most vivid dream when an insistent pounding on the door woke him up. He looked at his watch and swore when it showed he’d only slept not even two hours. He stood groggily and stretched his neck as the pounding started again.

“I’m comin’,” he called, “Hold on a sec.”

“Jon! Open the goddamn door!”

“David?!” Jon exclaimed as he threw the door open and David pushed his way inside, “The fuck, dude! Do you know what time it is?”

“Get your stuff, Jon,” he urged as he grabbed Jon’s jacket and shoes for him, thrusting them into Jon’s arms, “Hurry! Dad’s downstairs with the car.” He found Jon’s wallet and keys on the top of the television.

“Davy!” Jon snapped, “Tell me the fuck is goin’ on?”

“Police found dad’s card in Richie’s wallet and called him,” David said pushing the confused Jon out the door, closing it behind him.

“Richie?! Where is he?” Jon’s heart started hammering but not in a good way.

“He’s in the hospital,” David said as they raced down the stairs, “Someone found him. Dad’s number was the only one in his wallet.”

“When?” _Oh god, nonononono, not Richie, not now!_ Jon thought to himself.

“Ah...a couple of hours ago, I think, was when they found him,” he replied as they spilled out onto the street. Jon saw Eddie, his car running, waiting for them.

“Get in, son,” Eddie said kindly to Jon.

He felt the prickling of tears at the back of his eyes as he climbed into the backseat, David in the front beside his father. The atmosphere in the car was tense and the first time since he ran away, he was feeling afraid. Not for his life but for Richie’s.

“Wha-,” he croaked, cleared his throat and tried again, “what happened?”

“Someone found him lying unconscious on the side of the road,” Eddie said, “He’s...ahh...he’s been beaten. Badly.”

Jon made an agonised noise, clutching at his side in physical pain.

“Dad.” Jon heard David say softly with a shake of his head.

“He has to know the full extent, David,” Eddie said, “If they’re together now, he has to know.”

“I have to know what?” Jon spat out, “Tell me!”

“Jon…,” Eddie sighed sadly, “Richie...he’s been raped too.”

Something swirled sickly in his stomach as the word reverbed around his brain. 

_Oh god! Richie! Please god, if you even exist, please let him be okay?!_

He pleaded with a god that he didn’t even believe in but he needed to know that Richie was going to be okay, so fuck it! he’ll pray to every goddamn deity he could think of and if that didn’t work, he’d sell his tainted soul to the devil.

“Pull over,” he said as his stomach started to reject whatever contents it had, “I said pull over! Now!”

Eddie pulled the car quickly to the side of the empty road as Jon wrenched the door open and he fell to his knees beside the idling car, heaving the contents of his stomach onto the bitumen below. He heard a door open as his heaving turned into body-wracking sobs. He felt hands scoop under his arms as he was hauled to his feet.

“It’s okay, son,” Eddie said as he took Jon into his fatherly embrace, “It’ll be okay...shhh….”

Jon clung to Eddie as he cried for what Richie had been subjected to because he knew first hand what it had been like to be on the receiving end of that kind of abuse.

They stood on the side of the road for as long as it took for Jon’s hiccupping sobs to calm, the elder Rashbaum never releasing his hold until Jon slackened a little.

“Are you okay now, Jon?” he asked.

“Hmmm,” Jon nodded, “I’m sorry….”

“Don’t you dare apologise for caring for someone like that!” Eddie scolded him gently, “It’s about time you two found each other.”

Jon flicked his tear-swollen eyes to the older man’s.

“What?! You think we don’t see what’s going on under our own noses?” Eddie smiled and gently led Jon back to the car, “Flo and I are happy for you both. But for now,” he closed Jon’s door and walked around to the driver’s door and climbed back into the car, “Richie needs you so we have to get to the hospital.”

Jon sat silently for the rest of the trip to the hospital, the street lights casting shadows through the windows as he willed Richie to hang on till he got there. He didn’t even notice the car had stopped until David opened his door.

Jon unfolded himself from the backseat and looked up at the brick and mortar building with trepidation. David gently clapped his hand on Jon’s back and led him into the Emergency Department as Eddie had gone on ahead.

“We’re here to see Richie Sambora, please?” Eddie said to the nurse on duty.

“And you are?”

“Eddie Rashbaum, his guardian. The police called me and told me to meet Officer Johanson here.”

“Right. Down the corridor. Room 305,” she replied, “But before you go, who will be paying for Mr Sambora’s medical bills?”

“I will,” Eddie said and the nurse handed him the forms to fill in.

“You can bring those back here when you’ve filled them out.”

“Thank you,” Eddie replies and took the clipboard before turning to David and Jon. “You two go along. I’ll be there soon.”

“Are you okay, Jon?” David asked as they walked down the hallway, stopping intermittently. 

Jon had set a weird, halting pace and David matched it. He was anxious to see Richie, to make sure he was okay but then he didn’t want to see the extent of damage that had been done to him.

“I...I don’t know,” Jon admitted, barely audible. He had to grasp onto a wall as another wave of pain shot through him. 

“C’mon, we’re almost there,” David said.

A few more steps and they were standing outside Richie cubicle that had an officer standing guard. Jon approaches to enter but was stopped by the officer.

“You can’t go in there, kid.”

“Try and stop me,” Jon snarled and tried to shoulder his way past but was restrained before he even realised that he’d been put in an armlock, his shoulder pinching painfully. “Lemme go! I need to see him!”

“Doctor’s orders. Family only,” came the reply as Jon struggled at the restraint.

“No! Lemme in,” Jon cried.

“He’s family,” Eddie said as he strode up to the scuffle, “Are you Officer Johanson? I’m Eddie Rashbaum. You called me earlier.” 

Johanson released Jon with a little shove toward Eddie and David, who’d been standing in moot shock as the scuffle had evolved.

“Jon,” Eddie said, “You can go in first. We’ll be right out here.”

“Thanks,” he said, rubbing his shoulder as he took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

He felt his legs wobble when he walked a little closer to the bed. Richie was hooked up to a ventilator and monitor wires that hissed and beeped at him like a feral cat the closer he got.

“Oh god,” Jon breathed when he saw Richie’s bloodied and bruised face, his eyes swollen shut and already purpling. 

He looked both pale and colourful against the harsh white of the hospital linens as his arms laid limply beside him. Jon tentatively picked up Richie’s hand, his fret hand, and whimpered a little when he saw the perfect imprint of a boot heel on the back of it. He held it to his cheek and kissed the knuckles tenderly.

“Oh baby…,” Jon whispered, “What happened tonight? You promised me you’d stay safe!”

The monitors flickered a little as if in response to Jon’s words.

“You...you didn’t deserve this, Richie. You didn’t need to know this kind of pain.” Two fat tears tracked down his cheeks and fell unheeded onto the whiteness.

“You got- gotta pull through this, please,” Jon hiccupped, “You’re the first person that’s made me feel safe and...and loved.”

Jon couldn’t hold back a sob any longer and almost fell to his knees. 

“Jon,” Eddie said, stepped into the room and helped Jon to stand, “Come take a break. David’s gone to find a coffee machine.” The older man led him outside into the corridor, Office Johanson was nowhere to be seen.

Jon let himself be pushed into a hard plastic seat as Eddie sat beside him.

“What happened, do they know?” Jon asked dully.

“It seems the person that found Richie, knew him and that he worked for Al,” Eddie explained, “He was found unconscious and only partially dressed. Called the cops and the paramedics then took off.”

“The doctor said he has a brain injury, possibly from his head hitting the pavement, amongst the broken hand and ribs from the beating. He’s in an induced coma to allow his brain to recover.”

“You said he’d been r-raped, too.”

“Yes. They’ve taken a rape kit test and he has internal injuries there too.”

“Oh god,” Jon groaned.

David came back clutching some takeout coffee cups and handed them around, “Everything okay?”

Eddie nodded at his son, “Just filling Jon in on what the doctor had told us. Do you want to go in?”

“Nah, Jon can have my five minutes.”

Jon knew the others were talking but he was paying no attention as a mantra of “he’s gonna pull through” kept repeating through his head. He sipped at the lukewarm brown sludge called coffee and watched nurses come and go from Richie’s room.

Time slipped away as pre-dawn became dawn and then daylight. Eddie and David took turns in making sure Jon was ushered into Richie’s room regularly due to the strict visiting schedule or to make him eat something. Flo even made an appearance at regular visiting hours and wrapped Jon up in a mother’s embrace, making sure to fuss over him as much as her own family.

“Eddie, you and David need to go home and rest, dear,” she said, “I can stay with Jon for a while.”

“No, mom, I’ll stay,” David said, “You take dad home. He’s tired. We’ll call you if anything happens.”

“I’ll leave you my car,” Eddie said as he handed over the keys to David, “Richie’s paperwork is all filled out to the best of my ability. You’re both listed as family so you won’t have any problems with access.”

David nodded and Eddie turned to Jon.

“He’ll be okay, Jon. He’s a strong kid to have made it out on the streets this far. So are you. Don’t forget it.”

“Thanks, Mr R,” Jon replied holding his hand out to shake Eddie’s hand, “For everything.”

“I think by now you can start calling us Eddie and Flo, am I right?” he asked his wife who nodded, “You and Richie are as much our family as David is. We won’t brook any argument either.” He ignored the proffered hand, opting for a brief hug instead.

Jon gave him a wan smile and nodded, unable to speak from the wash of emotion. He’d never felt so secure in his life before; having the Rashbaums as a support network felt as comforting as Flo’s embrace.

Shortly after the older Rashbaums had left Jon went back into Richie’s room to sit beside his lover. He rested cheek against Richie’s bicep as he reached up and stroked his face gently. He could feel Richie breathing and his warmth seeping through the bedding, helping to convince himself that everything was going to be okay, that Richie was just sleeping as he had been just yesterday.

“Ahh Richie,” Jon said softly, “what would have happened if you weren’t found? Or...or if Eddie and Flo weren’t around to help?”

“How did we end up alone in the world, baby? At least we have each other, right?! You...you, at least, have parents out there.”

“They should be here! They should be loving you as much as Eddie and Flo love David. Goddamn it, Richie, _they_ should be here!” Something solidified within Jon and he pushed up from the chair. 

“I’ll be back, baby,” he said. He leaned over and kissed Richie softly, not wanting to aggravate the splits in his bottom lip that Jon loved so much, “Give me an hour or so. I...I need to go do something. I love you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

With a final look over his shoulder, Jon left Richie and woke David from his doze in the plastic waiting room chairs.

“Davy! Give me the car keys, man.”

“Wait...what?!” David asked groggily, “Is Richie okay?”

“No change. C’mon...give me your keys,” Jon held out his hand, wagging his fingers.

“No! Dad’ll kill me!”

“He won’t know...now c’mon,” Jon’s temper was starting to pique.

“I’ll drive! That’s the only way you’re gonna get that car, man,” he said stubbornly, standing up and facing off with Jon.

“Fuck! Okay,” Jon agreed grudgingly and headed quickly towards the exit to the car park, leaving David in his wake to catch up.

When they got in the car a short while later, David asked, “So where are we going?”

Jon dug out the slip of paper Rosie had given him and handed it to David with a curt “There!”

David looked at the name and address and murmured, “Oh!” as he ignited the engine and pulled out of the car park, turning the car in the intended direction.

Jon was quiet for most of the drive as he contemplated what he was about to do. When David pulled into the street he started to second guess himself but then he thought about Richie lying in that hospital bed and it galvanised him into action.

David pulled up outside the Sambora house and killed the engine. They both looked up at the small weatherboard house.

“Want me to come with you?”

Jon shook his head. 

“Okay. I’ll...I’ll stay here then...and wait for you. Good luck, Jonny.”

Jon gave him a brief, humourless smile and pushed the door open, unfolding himself from the car. He stood at the end of the driveway, smoothing his hands nervously down the legs of his jeans. He took a deep breath and walked up to the front door. He pushed the doorbell and noticed how his hand shook.

The door opened, startling him slightly, by a short-ish, dark-haired woman. She had Richie’s smile and warm chocolate brown eyes.

“Yes? Can I help you?” she asked looking Jon up and down.

“Mrs Sambora?”

“Yes...do I know you?”

“No. I’m...I’m Jon. I’m a...friend...of Richie’s,” Jon said before the woman started to close the door in his face. He slammed his palm onto the wood with a sharp smack and held it open. “Please! Let me talk!”

“Adam!” she called behind her.

“Please Mrs Sambora, hear me out,” Jon said loudly to counteract her calls for her husband. 

”Richie’s in the hospital! He’s in a coma!” Jon yelled just as Richie’s father appeared and tried to force the door closed on Jon.

“Richard?!,” Mrs Sambora turned to her husband, “Adam, Richard….”

“Now, you can ask me inside,” Jon snarled, “and do this like civilised adults or we can do this out here. I have nothing to hide...do you?!”

Adam Sambora quickly glanced up and down the street before saying tersely, “I think you’d better come inside.”

The older couple parted to allow Jon into their home. He heard the snick of the door closing as he looked around at the place his Richie had grown up in. 

It looked like a normal family home, similar to ones that he’d been living in with various foster families over the years. He looked around, turning on the spot, and was drawn to a wall of framed photos...all of Richie over various stages of his life. He smiled softly and ran his fingers lightly over Richie’s face in an older photo.

Baby and toddler photos, school photos and birthday photos, ending abruptly at his 17th birthday. A shrine, if you will, to the boy they raised and thought they knew. Jon idly wondered how they explained Richie’s absence to family and friends. 

Did they tell people he’d died; ripped from their loving arms by some freak accident or illness? Or did they tell the truth? 

That they forced him from his home because of their inability to accept him as he was? Jon guessed it was some mutated version of the latter, skewing the blame toward Richie and away from themselves.

Behind him, Adam cleared his throat to catch Jon’s attention. Jon turned and saw that they were seated, clutching each other. 

He had the urge to laugh only because he didn’t know if they were truly concerned about their son or if the sight of Jon frightened them in his tight jeans, ripped shirt and denim jacket with chains and patches adorning it.

“How about you tell us what happened?” Adam asked.

Jon had to scoff to himself at the lack of hospitality so he flopped down in the closest chair, throwing his leg over the arm and taking small satisfaction in the waves of hostility rolling off them. 

He then remembered that these were Richie’s parents that Jon knew he still loved deeply, regardless of the circumstances of their estrangement. He righted himself and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumbs, his hands held as though in prayer.

“Last night Richie left for work around the usual time...around 10 pm. We’d just finished eating at the diner. I left about an hour or so later...didn’t want to go back to an empty apartment.” 

He frowned as the lights and sirens as he left the diner flashed in his memory. His stomach sunk at the thought that they were probably racing to Richie’s side, something that he hadn’t considered until just now.

Brushing away a hot tear, he continued, “About 1 am, Davy, that’s him outside in the car, woke me, pounding on the door and hauled me off the couch. The police had called Eddie, his father, coz Richie had one of his business cards in his wallet.”

“Wait! Why was Richard working that late to start with?” Mrs Sambora asked. 

Jon had tried to think of a polite way of explaining Richie’s work. There was none, however, and truthfully he didn’t _want _to soften the reality of their son’s life to people that had rejected him.__

__“Richie is a male escort, a street-walker, a prostitute...call it what you want. He was heading out to meet a client. He doesn’t keep conventional hours.”_ _

__“Oh my…,” Mrs Sambora clutched at her husband’s arm._ _

__“He’d...he’d been found,” Jon’s voice lost its intensity as he continued with the next part, “unconscious by the side of the road. Beaten and…,” oh god...my Richie he thought, swallowing down the rising bile and his leg bouncing out of nervous energy, “and...raped.”_ _

__He heard Mrs Sambora’s horrified gasp before the onset of her tears and Mr Sambora trying to console his wife. “Shh, mother! Let me talk, please.”_ _

__“And how do you know Richard? Jon, was it?” Mr Sambora asked as Mrs Sambora cried, “Are you one of those people he hangs around with?”_ _

__Jon looked at Adam, looking for the warmth that Richie held in his face, in his heart. It must be there, he decided, just being hidden below a mask of indifference and bigotry. Richie couldn’t have become the man he is without that kind of role model._ _

__“Richie rescued me one night. Took me in off the street. Gave me a safe place to sleep and someone to talk to,” Jon said, looking straight at the older couple to try and convey how important that was to him. “I was broken beyond repair and he put me back together.”_ _

__“He’s my safety net, my family, my best friend and since last night, my lover. So if that’s what you were asking by saying those people, then the answer is yes!”_ _

__“I love him. He is my everything.”_ _

__Jon stood and walked to the front door, he’d had enough. He opened the door before turning back and said over his shoulder, “He’s in a fucking coma and should have his parents there...but only if they can accept him as he is. With no judgement.”_ _

__“Richie won’t ever know about me coming here if you don’t show up. He has me to look after him, not to mention David and his family, as well as our other friends.”_ _

__Jon continued, “You’re the ones missing out on the fun, loving, kind-hearted man he is.”_ _

__He pulled the door closed behind him and headed back down the driveway to David, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes before David could see the fresh tears._ _

__He was about to get into the car when the front door was opened, “Wait!” Jon turned to see Adam striding down the driveway, stopping halfway. “What room number...you know...if we should happen to want to….”_ _

__“305,” Jon said, cutting him off and closing the car door without another thought._ _

__“You okay, Jonny?” David asked as he pulled away from the curb._ _

__“Take me back to Richie, Davy.”_ _


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains violence and non-consensual sexual activity.

**Richie**

**_**SMACK**_**

Richie came to with a groan. His face was stinging, his head was pounding and his mouth was dry. He tried to swallow but found his mouth stuffed with some sort of rag. It then occurred to him that he couldn’t move either. 

He seemed to be restrained to a large support beam, his arms pulled above his head by what looked like a mechanics pulley system, his feet only just touched the ground. 

“‘Bout time you came around,” a disembodied voice said off to his side. Richie snapped his head around in surprise, but it sent a shooting pain up the side of his neck. He groaned.

“We have a bit of business to take care of, faggot,” the voice said, “and we don’t have a lot of time to do it.”

Richie knew he was still fighting the fog of the chloroform but he didn’t recognise the voice so he couldn’t comprehend what business he was alluding to, other than the job Al had sent him to.

“You see,” the voice said again, “last year I lost a good source of income unexpectedly. I searched for it for months, you see.”

“Had to find a new income source but they weren’t as pretty, or talented, as the last one so business dropped off. Significantly. So we had to get rid of the non-performing one.”

The voice was moving around behind him, just staying out of Richie’s line of sight and in the shadows made by the sole street light outside of the grimy windows. He tested the bindings around his wrists, rattling the chains as he tried to free his hands.

“Then about a month ago, on the way to an appointment, I see my pretty little money-maker walking down the street and into a music store without a care in the world.”

The man’s voice had taken on a sinister tone and Richie stilled suddenly as the realisation of what this person was saying. His heartbeat pounded in his ears in the relative silence of the night. 

Jon!

“You know who the fuck that was?” Jeff Baxter asked rhetorically, “My Jonny-boy! A daddy knows his son anywhere.”

The voice moved closer, just behind him, out of his line of sight but Richie could smell the body odour and alcohol distinctly. He tried to remain calm even though he was scared as fuck. Not so much for himself but for Jon. 

“So I waited and I watched. Both of you. I was determined to get my sweet-assed little boy back before he aged out of the system.”

“Then the other night...you know what I saw?” 

The man finally came out from the shadows like a spectre of doom. 

He was of average height, middle-aged and if the aura of predatory evil that rolled off him in waves didn’t exist, you would think he was an Average Joe.

“You and him! Together! Fucking! In that dirt-hole apartment you call home with the posters on the walls and the candles and incense.”

Richie inhaled a sharp, horrified breath. _What?! He’d been in his apartment?! When?!_

“That’s right...I made myself right at home one night when you were both out. Figured out where the best vantage points were to keep an eye on my boy.”

“I almost had my chance to snatch him back but then you had to go and ruin everything! So I’m taking out my retribution, faggot.” 

He reared back and landed a well-aimed punch to the side of Richie's mouth, splitting his lip and sending jolts of pain skyrocketing through his head. The rag that was in his mouth came free and Richie managed to rake in some gasping breaths.

“So I asked around and found your pimp and made out that I was a cashed-up visitor to the city looking for a good time with a young boy. I like ‘em young and tight, ya see. Had that in my Jonny ‘til you came along.”

“You’re the sick fuck that did that to him?!” Richie snarled.

“Every night. The wife and I would take turns, even let our friends have a go. For a price, of course. Jonny was a good little boy.”

“How did you get away with it?” 

Jeff landed the heel of his heavy boot in the centre of Richie’s stomach. “Good boys don’t talk.”

He screamed in pain and, not surprisingly, started spitting blood onto the dirty floor.

“How...how many others?” he panted. If he made it out of this alive, he wanted to know as much as possible to tell the authorities. If this was the kind of beatings Jon received, how many more innocent kids did these people torture?

“All I can say is this…” Jeff squeezed Richie’s crotch brutally before ripping down his pants. “You’ll be in good company.”

“Fuck…you…,” Richie managed to gasp out, spitting in Jeff’s face as he tried to evade the brutal hands of his captor. 

“Wrong! I’m gonna fuck you every which way ‘til Sunday, you piece of shit,” Jeff said menacingly as he wiped his face before backhanding Richie across the other side of his face.

Jeff’s ring split the other side of Richie’s mouth and his head spun, white-hot supernovas exploding behind his eyes. Jeff then proceeded to use Richie as a punching bag as he aimed for his most vulnerable areas like his ribs, kidneys and groin. Richie was left hanging by his weary arms when one kick took both legs out from underneath him.

As Jeff stumbled back from his quarry, panting heavily from exertion, a door in the distance opened and closed. Richie struggled to find his feet to release the pressure off his shoulders.

“You might use my body,” Richie snarled with as much venom that he could muster, “but I’ll make sure you never touch Jonny or any other kid, again, you sick fuck!”

He rattled the chains furiously and was frustrated that he couldn’t fight back, his hands still bound. “It’ll be the last time you fuck anybody.”

“Unfortunately, it’ll be the same for you…” A woman appeared from the shadows and handed Jeff a baseball bat. “Looks like you and Jonny got something else in common. This.” He waved the bat at Richie’s face. “Here...lick it…”

“Who the fuck are you?” Richie asked, avoiding the bat being forced into his face only to have it held up under his chin, pinning his head against the beam behind him.

The woman, like the male, would have been considered fairly average in height and looks. Neither stunningly beautiful nor unattractive. She could have passed for anyone’s mother. The perfect ruse in their sick and twisted game.

Jeff poked around Richie’s ass with the bat, sliding it into the crack and teasing his balls. “I can see why you’re Al’s favourite.” His hand slapped one rounded ass cheek.

“God...No...don’t you fucking dare!” Richie screamed in terror.

Sandy came to his side and wrapped her hand around Richie’s dick, stroking it slowly and laughing with her husband. Jeff spread his ass cheeks and set the baseball bat at his tight pink hole.

The only thing stopping him from being impaled were the tips of his toes that touched the floor. His cock, on the other hand, was sadly betraying him and growing harder at the woman’s ministrations.

Richie whimpered at his lack of self-control as tears tracked down his face, instinctively knowing what was about to happen. 

“NO! Please...dear god...no no no no,” he pleaded before his feet were kicked out from under him and he blacked out from the brutal tearing of tender flesh.

*~*

Richie started to become aware of sounds first but not clearly and not for long the pain was still too intense and it pulled him back under within moments; a mere blip on the monitor screen.

The next time he felt a comforting warmth beside him. He still wasn’t sure where he was but he was still in a lot of pain. His throat was dry but he couldn’t swallow and he didn’t have the energy to lift an arm to find out why before the fog pulled him into the depths again.

It felt as though only a moment passed between then and when angry, raised whispers tugged him into consciousness again. He must be dreaming because it sounded like his mother and father but then he heard Jon’s alongside theirs. He willed himself to concentrate on the dream so that he could replay his parents’ voices again in his memory.

“I’m _not_ leaving him,” Jon snarled, “You’ll have to drag me out of here and it won’t be pretty.”

“We appreciate your being here until today,” Adam said, “but we’re here now. We are his parents...he doesn’t need you now.”

“Like fuck he doesn’t,” Jon snapped.

“Shh...keep your voice down,” Joan admonished, “You’re causing a scene.”

“I don’t _fucking care_ about causing a scene. Listen…,” Jon said, “I came to you out of common courtesy and because I know Richie still loves you and misses you. Desperately.”

“He put me back together when I needed it,” he continued, “I will be the one to do the same for him. I _know_ what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that kind of brutality and not have anyone to pick up the pieces. It fucking sucks!”

“Really?! You know about being beaten to a pulp and raped?” Adam asked, the skepticism coating his words thickly.

“Every fucking day for almost a year! My foster parents...did that... every day to me! I saved every penny I had and escaped one night after my _father_ tried to rape me while I was asleep.” Jon’s voice wavered, emotional and full of pain. “Richie found me sleeping on the street. He took me in, supported me...loved me...made me whole again.”

Richie wanted to be a part of this dream and just take Jon in his arms and hold him. It used every ounce of energy and willpower but he managed to crack an eye open a little. 

It was bright! Everything was white apart from the three shadowy figures looming above him. It hurt, but he swivelled his eyes around and saw all the monitors beeping and a whooshing ventilator. He realised then that he was hooked up to it and it was pushing the air into his lungs. It was about then that the pain washed over him again making him groan.

“Richie?!” one shadowy figure with Jon’s voice turned and looked down at him, “Richie, baby, can you hear me? Fuck, just lie still...I’ll get the doctor.”

“Oh, Richard! Can you hear me?” It sounded like his mom but he hadn’t seen his parents in years.

“We’re both here, son.” 

He tried to talk but the damn tube down his throat made it impossible. He wanted to make sure he was really hearing his parents. Most of all, though, he wanted to see Jon and have him hold him. All he could do was groan in pain and frustration. Everything hurt to move.

Police! He had to tell the police he knew what happened and who did this! Jon...he’s in danger.

The urgency made him fidgety and he slowly brought his hand up to his face, wanting to pull the ventilator tube out.

“Richard...please calm down, son. The doctor will be here in a minute,” Adam said and tried to restrain his arm which sent a frisson of fear through him and he started to struggle harder.

“What are you doing?” Jon exclaimed as he burst through the door with the doctor, rushing to pull Adam away from Richie, “Leave him alone. You’re scaring him, can’t you see?!”

“Okay, Richie, if you can calm down a little,” the doctor said, “I won’t have to sedate you again and I’ll be able to take your breathing tube out for you. But first, let me check you over. Folks, if you could just step outside for a moment, please?”

“You’ve been a very lucky young man,” the doctor said as he took his vitals and checking over his injuries, “Do you remember what happened?”

Richie nodded. Flashes of his attackers and what they did to him was burned into his memory. He closed his eyes as tears prickled, threatening to spill over.

“Broken ribs and nose, mainly bruised internal organs, lacerations. The most concerning was the internal damage done when you were sodomised and raped...” the doctor listed off Richie’s injuries as he checked them, “but with a little time, it should all right itself.” He pulled off the used latex gloves and applied fresh ones. 

“Okay, ready for this tube to come out? I need you to cough for me as I extubate you...ready...nice big cough,” he said as the tube came out cleanly when Richie coughed. He handed Richie a cup of water, “Just little sips for the moment. You’re going to have a very sore throat for a little while. No long conversations or yelling for a day or two.”

“Police,” Richie managed to rasp out after a sip of water, “Need to tell.”

“You know who did this to you?”

Richie nodded.

“I go call Officer Johanson immediately. He’s been waiting for you to wake up. Shall I send your loved ones in?”

Richie nodded again. He wanted to know if it really was his parents with Jon.

“Right. You’ve had a lot of people visit that care about you. I’ll be back in an hour to check up on you.” The doctor smiled then left briskly.

There was barely a pause before the door pushed open again and his mother bustled in, making a beeline for his bedside, joined shortly by his father.

“Mom?! Dad?!” he said croakily, “How…?”

“Your...friend...paid us a visit on the first day you were here in the hospital,” Joan said, “He made a good argument about being a family again. So when you’re released you’ll come home with us again to get you back on your feet again.”

“We’ve aired out your room, tidied it up a bit,” Adam supplied, “I can put in a good word for you at the factory about a job when you’re able.”

He heard a gasp from beyond the foot of his bed. He looked down to see Jon’s distraught face. Richie held out his hand to Jon and waited for him to come to him. When Jon took his hand, he linked their fingers and he felt at peace, calming instantly.

Richie turned his head back to his parents and said, “Have a home. With Jon.” Then continued with conviction, “I love him,” and squeezed Jon’s fingers with as much strength as he could.

Jon smiled down at him as whispered, “I love you too, baby,” then leaned forward and gently kissed his swollen lips.

“Accept me...us, as is,” Richie said turning to his parents but starting to tire, “please...or lose me again.”

He saw the shock on his parents’ faces but he was beyond caring. He had his family, Jon, Rosie, David and his parents, that accepted them as they are.

“Richard,” his mother said after a moment’s silence, “I...we don’t want to lose you again...but it will take some time for your father and me to be...comfortable...with this.” She waved her hands in Richie and Jon’s direction. “We love you, Richard, and we’ve missed you terribly these past years.”

His father nodded his agreement and added, “He must love you to do this for you, son. Jon...thank you. Sincerely.” He held his hand over Richie’s bed to Jon for a conciliatory handshake.

Richie allowed a tear to slide down his cheek as his father and his lover shook hands, something he never thought he’d see.

“Come, mother, we’ll leave these two alone for now,” Adam said, gruffness barely disguising the emotion in his voice, “We’ll come back tomorrow, son, first thing in the morning.”

“You need your rest, sweetheart,” Joan smiled and kissed Richie’s forehead, “Jon...don’t keep him awake for too long, please.”

Jon smiled wearily, “I won’t, I promise.”

As the older Sambora’s left, Jon said to Richie, “I’ll be right back, baby,” and hurried out after them.

*~*

“Kid! Hey kid. Wake up for a minute.”

A familiar voice woke Richie. The room was dark when he opened his eyes and Jon was curled up in the hospital bed beside him, sound asleep, so he knew it wasn’t him.

It had been a rough evening after his parents had left and Officer Johanson had turned up to take his statement. Jon had insisted on staying with him through the recounting and had taken it badly when he’d heard who had inflicted Richie’s injuries. It took a toll on him, as well, having to recount the details of his abuse. 

After it was all documented, Johanson alerted the nurses on his way out that they both had been overwrought and with approval from Richie’s doctor, gave them both a mild sedative to help them sleep and allowing Jon to stay with Richie.

“Who’s there?” he whispered, frowning at the hoarseness of the sound coming out of his mouth.

To his surprise, Al took a step closer to the side of the bed.

“How you doin’, kid?” he said kindly, his unlit, ever-present cigarillo hanging from his lips bounced as he spoke. “You look like a piece of shit!”

“Fuck you, Al,” Richie rasped out, affectionately, “What are you doin’ here?” 

Richie had been working for Al for long enough to know when business was business and the rest was mutual respect for each other.

“I snuck in to see how you were doin’,” he said with a shrug, then pointing to Jon, “Who’s the kid?”

“Family,” Richie simply said.

“Kinky,” he replied with a smirk.

“What do you want, Al?” Richie asked with a weary sigh.

“My contact at the police department passed on the details of two particular wanted assailants,” Al said, absently taking the smoke from his mouth to talk, “Just letting you know that it’s been taken care of.”

“Nobody messes with my business and gets away with it,” he snarled.

Richie just nodded. Knowing Al’s reputation it could have meant anything but he was secretly hoping on at least a similar punishment to his own.

“Listen...I know you’re gonna be a bit gun-shy where work is concerned at the moment so...,” Al continued, “should you choose to leave my employ...I should be able to find you something, job-wise. Legitimate job-wise.”

“Fuck, thanks Al,” Richie said, surprised at his generosity, “Why would you help me like that?”

“You did right by me over the years,” he acknowledged, “so I’m returning the favour. You’re a good kid, Sambora.”

Richie nodded his thanks.

“I gotta go...there was a cute nurse on my way in,” Al winked, “Might have to get my temperature checked. Goes without saying, kid, I wasn’t here, right?”

“I’m just dreaming this whole conversation,” Richie said and closed his eyes again, drifting back to sleep easily, as Al slipped from his room and Jon snuggled closer to his side.


	15. Chapter 15

**Jon**

“Mr and Mrs Sambora?” he called out to them. They stopped and Jon caught up to them quickly.

They stood expectantly as Jon rubbed his hands nervously down the side of his jeans, “I just wanted to say thank you...for coming to see Richie, I mean. I know it would have been hard to see him like that but to have you there when he woke...well, I just wish I could have had that opportunity to know my birth parents, you know?”

“We appreciate your courage and loyalty to Richard, Jon,” Joan said, “You said something the other day, but…,” she sighed, “Do you love him?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jon said simply, “With all my heart.”

“Then that’s good enough for us,” Joan said and patted Jon’s cheek before turning to her husband and continuing toward the exit.

Jon waited until they were out of sight before returning to Richie’s side. He smiled softly when he saw that he was sleeping again. It was to be expected, the doctor had told them, for him to drift in an out of sleep due to the slight swelling of his brain and his body’s way of healing.

He needed a cigarette but with Richie off the ventilator and out of his coma, he didn’t want to take the chance of Richie waking and him not being there. He paced the room for a while before finally perching on the edge of the chair, leaning his arms on the bed. He idly played with Richie’s too-still fingers as he stared off into space.

It had been three days since Richie’s assault; three days of little sleep and either cafeteria food or home-cooked meals brought in by the Rashbaums when they’d visited each day. Rosie had even visited Richie after she had been to the music store looking for them both when they’d been a no-show for a day. 

Jon had spent those three days vacillating from a white-hot rage to sick with worry over Richie. He’d put the elder Samboras out of his head once he’d left their place with David. Jon hadn’t actually believed that they’d show up, until their hesitant steps through the hospital door.

When they’d tried to make him leave before Richie woke, then only to hear their plans of his return to their house after the doctor had given the all-clear, he thought his world was about to shatter all over again.

But Richie had reached for _him_ and declared his love for him in front of his parents, everything righted itself again. For Richie’s sake, he would play nice with his parents until Richie was back on his feet again. Then it would be one day at a time.

A knock at the door startled Jon from his musings and was surprised to see Officer Johanson. Jon motioned for him to come in.

“Mr Bongiovi,” he shook Jon’s hand, “The doctor called to say that Mr Sambora was awake and wanted to speak with the police?”

“He’s sleeping at the moment,” Jon said, “but I can wake him for you.”

“If you wouldn’t mind. I’ll just get the preliminary stuff going while you do that.”

Jon nodded and gently shook Richie, “Rich...baby. Can you wake up a little please?”

Richie woke with a gasp, “Hey….”

“Hey yourself,” Jon smiled and reached for the water cup, handing it to Richie, “Have some water for your throat. Officer Johanson is here to take your statement. Think you can handle it?”

Richie nodded, slowly coming awake. He tried to sit up but winced from the effort. “Can you put the bed up a little, Jonny?”

“Sure,” he replied and pressed the necessary buttons on the controller, “I’ll just leave you two to do this. I’ll be right outside, I promise.”

“No! Stay!” he said, gripping Jon’s wrist, “You need to know.”

Jon searched Richie’s eyes, swollen as they were, and saw a hint of fear and trepidation. Jon simply nodded and bent to kiss Richie on the cheek and whispered, “I love you.”

“If you’re ready Mr Sambora…,” Johanson said, pen poised above his notebook.

Richie took a deep breath and held Jon’s hand as he started to talk.

“I’d been sent to a meeting with a client at 10.30 pm. I got there a little late coz I wasn’t sure I’d been sent to the right address. It was an abandoned building or something like that. I was about to turn around because I got that gut feeling, you know? The one that makes your hair stand on end.” 

Richie’s grip on Jon’s hand tightened.

“But then someone jumped me from behind and chloroformed me. When I came to, my hands were shackled above my head.” 

Jon has wondered about the swelling and bruising around Richie's wrists. It was one of the reasons his left hand hadn’t been set in plaster as yet, only braced, waiting for the swelling to subside a little.

“Then this guy...this guy said we had business to take care of because...god...Jonny...because he’d seen Jon with me. That he wanted,” Richie started crying and Jon got a sick feeling in his stomach, “that he wanted to get J-Jon back before he...he aged out of the system. That J-Jon had been his meal-ticket, lost money after he’d escaped.”

Jon was horrified at what he was hearing, looked at Richie and shook his head in denial. “No...i-it can’t have been…” Jon gasped. That sick feeling swirled ominously in his gut.

Richie nodded tearfully as a sob wracked his battered body.

“Do you know who he’s talking about?” Officer Johanson asked a very pale Jon.

“M-my former foster father,” Jon could barely form the words through clenched teeth.

“Sh-she was there too,” Richie said to Jon, “Sh-she...fuck...she br-brought the baseball bat that they...they s-sodomised m-me with.”

Jon bolted from beside Richie and just made it to the bathroom as what little stomach contents emptied into the bowl. 

They’d found him. 

They’d found him and had taken their revenge out on Richie, an innocent bystander...that he’d involved. God! Fuck, it was his fault Richie was hurt.

He stood on shaky legs and rinsed his mouth before going back to the room. He opened the door and all he could see was a distraught Richie. He went to him immediately and pulled him, as best he could, into his arms.

“I-I’m sorry, Richie,” he sobbed into his neck, “I’m so sorry….”

They held each other, taking comfort in their embrace as their emotions crashed over them.

Officer Johanson cleared his throat and they reluctantly pulled away from each other.

“Mr Bongiovi, Mr Sambora has given me names of his attackers,” he said, “Are you able to tell me the names of who you believe did this, as corroboration?”

“Jeff and Sandy Baxter,” Jon said with conviction, “They’re registered foster parents and I was systematically physically abused, sexually abused by them on an almost daily basis. Not only themselves but others in their community. The...the baseball bat was a favourite punishment of theirs.”

“Show him your scars,” Richie said hoarsely, squeezing Jon’s fingers slightly.

Jon nodded and stood to remove his jacket, before pulling his shirt up over his head and turning his back to show Johanson.

“Thank you, Mr Bongiovi,” Johanson said after he had made notes, taking down the address that Jon had lived with them, as well as the neighbourhood women that had used him on a regular basis. “I think that will be enough for today. I’m sorry I had to put you both through that but this will be enough to get the arrest warrant out this evening and pick them both up as soon as possible. It looks like they’ll go away for a long time especially if previous foster children can be found and are willing to testify against them.”

Johanson shook both men’s hands as best he could and left them both to console each other.

“Don’t!” Richie said once they were alone.

Jon could tell Richie’s throat was sore from the weirdness of his voice, from all the talking he’d just done with making his statement.

“Don’t what?” Jon asked. He was sitting wearily, brooding, in the chair beside Richie’s bed.

“Don’t blame yourself and don’t deny that you’re not doing it,” Richie said. 

He couldn’t deny it because it was true. He was blaming himself for bringing the Baxters into Richie’s life, into his life with Richie. It made him angry and totally sick to his stomach to think they’d been looking for him all this time just so they could line their own pockets again by using him. 

_Huh! It made me the same as Richie...a prostitute._ Jon scoffed internally, _At least he did it knowingly and willingly._

“They came after me,” Jon cried and beat his fist against his chest. He sprang from the chair and paced the small room in agitation before turning back to Richie, all battered and broken.

“They came after me and they found you! They hurt...,” Jon drew in a deep breath because he felt like vomiting again but battled against it, “they hurt y-you because of m-me!”

“They hurt you, Rich…,” Jon whispered sadly and buried his face in his hands as the tears fell again.

Christ, he was tired of crying. How did the magic of his birthday and the night of their passion become such a fucked-up mess of tears, anger and guilt?

“Jonny…,” Richie started, equally upset, however, a nurse entered the room at that point.

“Oh dear, I guess I’m just in time then?!” she said as she placed the tray with pill cups and fresh dressings, on the meal table. 

“Doctor has authorised a mild sedative after taking to Officer Johanson. It may have been divided for your ease of swallowing or for...other purposes.” She sent a pointed look to Jon. “I’ll leave them here for when you’ve finished your discussion.”

“Now...he also wanted me to see if we can get you up and showered. You’ll feel a little refreshed. We couldn’t clean you up until the police had been.” 

“Aww, no sponge bath?” Richie joked half-heartedly and Jon threw him an amused look and shook his head.

He was grateful that the tensions had been eased by the necessary day-to-day routine now that Richie was awake.

She bustled around getting everything ready to help Richie out of bed. She wrapped Richie’s hand, which had been set in plaster after the first night, into a plastic bag so it wouldn’t get wet.

“Okay,” she said to Richie, sweeping the bedding aside, “Now I’m going to help you to stand slowly and we’ll see how we go from there.” She slowly moved Richie’s legs to the edge of the bed and let him get accustomed to being almost upright.

“Can I help?” Jon asked.

“Yes, you can,” she said, “You can stay with him in the shower to make sure he doesn’t fall or overdo it, while I change the bedding. Come over here and help stand him up.”

“Yeah, Jonny, come make me stand up,” he said with a hoarse, dirty chuckle.

Jon grinned at the double entendre and noticed a little of Richie’s sparkle come back into his eyes. The vice of guilty angst around his chest loosened to a bearable level as he stood beside the nurse and Richie put his good hand on his shoulder to steady himself as he stood on shaky legs.

Richie groaned and huffed out a breath as he straightened up but bent back over a little again.

Jon frowned. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Richie said tightly, leaning a little more heavily against Jon.

As Jon moved to adjust himself to hold Richie in a more secure grip, his gaze landed on the soiled sheets that had been under Richie and his stomach roiled again in anger. 

He looked at Richie and as if knowing what he was thinking, shook his head at him, silently conveying a ‘Not now’.

“Now let’s get you into the shower. There’s a chair in there,” the nurse said, “should you feel like you need it.”

“I got him from here,” Jon said to the nurse, “You know, so you can...um...change...that….” He shot a pointed look at the bed. 

She nodded in understanding and said to Jon, “Okay. Keep a close eye on him, don’t let him overdo anything. No scrubbing to get any dried blood off, it will come off in time.”

“I’m still here, ya know,” Richie said, “My ears still work fine, they didn’t get fucked over.”

“Shush, you,” the nurse smiled kindly, “I’ll check your injuries once you’re out and then we’ll see about some food for you. It’ll be soft foods for a while, while your body heals.”

“Hmm, yummy,” he grimaced, “Okay, Jonny, let’s see what kind of nurse you are.”

Jon helped Richie into the bathroom and helped him into the shower chair while he fiddled with the taps to get the right temperature.

“Jonny…,” Richie said, “C’mere.”

“Yeah, just a second-,” Jon said.

“Stop avoiding me, Jon,” Richie snapped, “I don’t wanna sound pathetic but...fuck, I need you right now!”

“I’m not avoiding you, Rich,” Jon sighed, “I’m trying to figure out a way to turn time back to before you walked out of the diner that night so that you won’t have the nightmares I do.” 

He knelt down in front of Richie and laid his head in his lap, “Now I have more nightmares of you in here with all the tubes and shit over you.”

“Ahh Jonny,” Richie said. 

Jon felt Richie’s fingers in his hair and against his scalp. “And all I want to do is hold you and take the pain away.”

Richie scooped Jon’s hair behind his ear and said softly, “We can’t turn back time, baby, but you can hold me all you want. For as long as you want.”

Then after a moment of letting that hang mid-air, Richie continued, “Jonny...the shower.”

“Oh shit!” He’d completely forgotten about it. He pushed up from his knees and Richie caught him midway with a deep, soul replenishing kiss.

“I think I might need help in the shower. Wanna be my nurse?” Richie waggled his eyebrows at Jon. He then went on to ask, a little more seriously, “When was the last time you had a shower?”

Jon shook his head. He didn’t have to think very hard, “With you.”

“Stand up and strip off,” he said.

He only hesitated for a moment before Jon’s clothes were lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. He then helped Richie to stand up and the hospital gown joined his clothes. He inhaled sharply at the confronting sight of the bruises and other injuries.

“Fuck...is that what I looked like?” Jon asked and led him under the warm spray.

“Uh-huh,” Richie nodded, “You were still raw too.”

“I don’t remember...I think I became immune to the pain.”

Jon washed Richie gently, being extra careful of the most sensitive areas. Jon was glad he was standing behind Richie when he was washing the blood from down the back and from between his long legs so that he couldn’t see the murderous rage in his face.

When he was finished he carefully sat Richie in the chair again as he could see he was starting to tire, then quickly washed himself.

He had just finished drying them both and was climbing backing into his days-old clothes when the nurse popped her head in.

“You both okay here? I’ve left you longer than I’m supposed to, so don’t tell on me to the Head Nurse,” she said.

“Your secret is safe with us, darlin’,” Richie said.

The nurse helped Richie to stand as she efficiently checked him over and helped him into a fresh hospital gown then back into bed.

“Right! Everything looks fine. The doctor should be in tomorrow morning to check you again,” she said, “I’ve ordered you some scrambled eggs and some fruit purée for dessert. See how you go with that, then we’ll see about something more substantial.”

She made a few notes in the folder at the foot of his bed as the meal arrived. “Make sure you have your medication after you’ve eaten. You won’t have as many checks through the night but if you have any difficulties, especially in the bathroom, just hit the buzzer.” She breezed out as swiftly as she arrived leaving them alone again.

Richie picked at the food after it arrived, but gave up after a while. Even Jon spoon-feeding him didn’t help. “I think I’m too tired, that’s all. I’m sorry, Jonny.”

“It’s not very appetising, is it?” Jon admitted, “Do you want me to go get something from the vending machine?” Richie shook his head.

“No...thanks though,” he said, “I think I’ll just take my meds and sleep for a bit.”

“Okay,” Jon nodded.

“Actually,” Richie said as he swallowed the half-tablet with a sip of water and held the other cup out to Jon with a wonky smile, “come sleep with me.”

“Nah, I’ll sleep on the chair again. You need all the bed space.”

“You’ve slept in here every night. Now don’t be an idiot, you’re exhausted and I want to feel you snuggled against me again.”

“How did you…,” Jon asked. He had crawled in beside Richie after they’d set Richie’s hand the first night, then every night since. He just needed to be close.

Richie just shrugged and rattled the pill in the cup at Jon.

Jon took the cup, tipped the half-pill into his mouth and threw his head back and dry swallowed it. He was well aware of Richie watching his every move.

He reached up to switch the overhead light off before climbing in beside Richie in the small hospital bed. 

They settled, wrapped around each other as exhaustion and medication swirled together and started weaving a spell to pull them into a dreamless sleep. 

Before succumbing to sleep's spell, though, Richie whispered, “Jonny? We’re gonna get through this, right?”

Jon, gazing into Richie’s chocolate brown eyes, was silent for a long moment before leaning in and chastely kissed him, then said, “As long as we have each other, we can get through anything, baby. I’m right beside you every step of the way...just like you’ve been beside me.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Richie**

Richie woke the next morning, still sore but...happy? Was that the right word? Maybe content was a better one, he mused.

The reason? The reason was right beneath his nose.

It was buried deep into Jon’s hair as he was draped all over him, deeply asleep. Richie smiled sleepily and kissed the top of Jon’s head, relishing his warmth as he inhaled deeply.

However, Mother Nature decided to be an absolute bitch right at that moment and he desperately needed to move.

With a regretful groan, he gently shook Jon awake, feeling Jon’s grumbles reverberate through his chest. He grinned to himself even though it hurt to do so, and shook Jon a little harder. 

“Jonny...wake up. You need to get off m- oof!” Instead of letting go, Jon had pulled him closer, making his broken ribs twinge painfully, _“Fuck!”_ He couldn’t help but curse the pain it caused. Seems as though every time he woke Jon out of a deep sleep, he ended up paying the price.

“Rich?!” Jon woke with a start and asked sleepily, “Are you okay? Do you need anything? I’ll get the nurse.”

“I will be…,” Richie replied, slightly breathless from the pain. “No nurse.”

“Oh shit...I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Yeah...s’okay,” Richie breathed, “you were still asleep. Help me up? I need the bathroom.”

“Oh! Oh, sure” Jon scooted off the bed then lowered the side and helped Richie get his legs down to the floor and stand up. “Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I’ve been wiping my own ass for a few years now.” He had to grin at Jon’s embarrassed duck of his head. He slipped his hand around the back of Jon’s neck and drew him close, kissing the side of his head and said, “Best sleep I’ve had in a while, too. I like having you in my bed.” With that, he went into the bathroom and closed the door.

He was delaying the inevitable but his body was insisting that it happen regardless. With a resigned sigh, he sat and grit his teeth against the pain as he let nature take its course. He hadn’t realised he had vocalised until a knock at the door startled him, “Are you okay, Rich? Do you need a nurse?”

“No! Fuck! No nurse!”

“Oh!”

“Damn it...sorry, Jonny, that wasn’t aimed at you,” Richie replied, his eyes prickling with the pain, “If they catch these animals, I’m bringing a rocket launcher to shove up their asses. You can pull the trigger, babe.”

Afterwards, he decided that a hot shower was going to be the lesser of two evils and infinitely more soothing. He, somehow, managed to shower and dry without getting his cast too wet.

“Babe, can you find me some kind of pa-,” he started to say as he opened the door, only to see three faces turn his way. He had been drying his hair one-handed, the other minuscule hospital towel around his hips only barely met at the join.

He hadn’t realised how long he had been in the bathroom so when he opened the door to see Eddie and Flo chatting with Jon, who seemed to be in clean clothes, and a tray of breakfast items, he guessed he’d been there awhile.

“Richie!” Flo exclaimed, frowning and immediately giving him a hug, “It’s so good to see you up and about. How are you feeling? Oh my goodness, look at what they did to you...though you’re looking a lot better than you were three days ago.”

He submitted to the hug, extremely conscious of the fact that the towel could come loose at any moment.

“Flo! Leave the poor boy be and give him his pants,” Eddie scolded his wife affectionately, before holding his hand out to shake Richie’s as she turned to the bag on the bed. 

“Um...Eddie...I just wanted to say thanks,” Richie said, “for everything! Jon told me...answering the police call, getting Jonny here, signing for the hospital bill and everything. I’ll pay you back somehow...when I get back to work.”

“You’re welcome,” Eddie nodded with a smile, “I’m just glad you had my card on you. As for the rest...we’ll figure it out later, when you’re back on your feet properly again.”

Flo thrust a pair of sweats into his hands, “These are a pair of David’s so they may be a little short in the leg for you but I thought they’d be more comfortable than jeans.”

“Thanks...my ass will appreciate it,” he said and dropped a kiss to her cheek making her blush. Flo turned her back to give him some privacy to get dressed.

He sat gingerly on the chair and tried to shuffle his legs into the soft fabric with one hand until Jon knelt in front of him and helped guide them up over his legs, settling them on his hips. Jon had just stood up again when the door opened again.

The older Samboras stood hesitantly inside the door. “Oh...you have visitors...we’ll c-,” Joan said as she turned and went to close the door.

“Ma!” Richie called as he stood slowly. She turned back to face him and Richie smiled tentatively before he held his arms open to her. 

It had been too long since he’d hugged her and had always thought that he’d never get the chance again so when she stood before him, he wrapped his arms around her small frame and held on tight as she cried. 

He looked over the top of his mother’s head to his father still standing at the door. He gently extricated himself from his mother, kissing the top of her head, before hobbling over to his father. 

He was finally standing face to face, eye to eye with him, ready to accept the older man’s decision. If he said he still wasn’t able to accept him, then at the very least he got to hug his mother again.

“Dad,” Richie simply said as he met his father’s gaze unwaveringly, his heart was thumping hard.

“Richard, I…,” Adam started. It wasn’t until he started to speak that Richie noticed his father’s chin wobble with held back emotion. “I’m...I’m sorry, son. For all the pain...over the past years.” 

The father and son embraced tearfully, the angry words and banishment forgiven as years of estrangement disappeared. 

Behind them, Flo sniffled happy tears and Eddie placed his arm around her shoulders. He pulled Jon, who had moved nervously around the room, into a manly hug and said, “You did good, son. I’m proud of you.”

Richie clapped his father on the back once and stood back, turning to Jon and mouthed a silent “Thank you”. He smiled back, lovingly, to Richie and slowly blinked in acknowledgement.

“Forgive me for being rude,” Joan said turning to the others in the room, “I’m Joan. Richard’s mother.” She held her hand out to Flo.

"Understandable, sweetie," Flo cooed in a motherly tone. "I'm Flo Rashbaum and this is my husband, Eddie. We sort of took Jon in as our own when he became close with our son, David."

“That’s extremely kind of you,” Joan smiled, “My husband, Adam. I’m not sure how much Richard has mentioned….”

“Enough,” Flo said kindly, “but it seems it’s water under the bridge now?”

Joan nodded and smiled.

A knock came at the door and David strolled in with his arm around Amber. 

"Hey, Pops! Didn’t expect to see you and mom here. Jonny,” he saluted to Jon, ”Rich, you look like shit, man, but good to see you upright again! Sorry, it took me a bit to get here. Had to pick up this pretty little thing."

“This uncouth human is our son, David,” Flo said to Joan and Adam, “and his girlfriend, Amber. David, Amber, these are Richie’s parents.”

Amber smiled shyly and murmured a greeting.

“Oh,” David nodded, then turned a sceptical eye to the Samboras, “Why are you here? Aren’t you the parents that disowned Richie for liking boys as much as girls? Don’t tell me Jon’s talk the other day help you see what asses you’ve been?”

“Dude!” Jon exclaimed and punched his free arm.

“Hey! What was that for?!” David frowned at Jon, “I was asking a legitimate question!”

"David Bryan Rashbaum!" Flo scolded him and slapped her son upside his head. "Have you no decency?"

“No, that’s okay,” Adam said, “We deserve it. I just hope we can redeem ourselves enough to Richard. Lord knows we’ve kicked ourselves a million times over the past years, for our misguided decision.”

Richie motioned to Jon, who moved to his side. Richie wrapped his arm around his shoulders, leaning on him as he was getting tired again and his head was starting to pound. “Do you accept me as I am and whoever I love, regardless of gender? If so, then you're on the right road to redemption.”

“Your mother and I look forward to getting to know Jon better, actually,” Adam said, directing a smile to Jon, “We’ve spoken more about you since his visit the other day than we have since...since that day. David’s right. Jon made us see what asses we’ve been.”

“See?!” David crowed triumphantly and flopped down on the hospital bed, pulling Amber onto his lap and grabbed the multi-use remote. After he tilted the back of the bed up into an upright position he turned the television on as everyone started talking amongst themselves.

Richie turned to Jon and tilted his chin up as Jon’s arms looped around his waist. “Thank you, baby. I don’t know what to say…,” he said, smiling.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just know how I felt; wishing my birth mother was there to take away the pain,” Jon shrugged.

“I wish I could do that for you,” Richie murmured, “I love you so much right now, baby.” He leaned forward and kissed Jon. It started out as a soft touch of lips as they wrapped their love around themselves like a warm blanket on a cold day, to the exclusion of everyone else in the room.

“Oh shit!” David yelped and turned the volume up on the television, “Jon! Rich! Come look! I think you’ll be very interested in this.”

Richie frowned in confusion and Jon shrugged before they moved to the bed. Jon shoved David and Amber off the mattress so that Richie could sit as a hush fell over the room.

_“In breaking news just to hand, the bodies of suspected pedophiles, Jeff and Sandy Baxter, have just been found and retrieved from an abandoned building downtown after a tip-off from an anonymous source. The bodies had been found tied together and had shown signs of sexual assault.”_

_“The police were searching for the pair in connection to a recent sexual assault and deprivation of liberty case and also for questioning over previous repeated sexual assaults on a number of foster children in their care.”_

_“The investigation will now concentrate on the agency that had approved their application and that had placed the children in their care. More to come in the next news bulletin.”_

The news anchor cut to another story and someone turned off the television.

The room fell silent around Richie and Jon, who had both continued to stare at the blank screen in shocked disbelief. 

“The dream…,” Richie whispered to himself. He’d put the nocturnal conversation out of his mind, believing it was just a dream but now he was almost certain that Al had visited him.

_‘It’s all taken care of’_ and _‘Nobody messes with my business'_ replayed in his mind.

Everyone started talking at once, making such a ruckus that the head nurse came into the room and evicted everyone. 

“Damn it, we just got here!” David complained as Amber snuggled back into his side.

“It’s okay, Pookie-bear,” she said, “I have the rest of the day off and my roommates are out so we have the whole apartment to ourselves.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” he grinned lasciviously and left with a wave of his hand in the air to Richie and Jon.

“Would you like to go have a coffee, Joan?” Flo offered as all the parents started out the door under the nurse’s watchful eye, “I think we all need one, don’t you?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Joan smiled as the door closed.

Goodbyes were said quickly and promises made to come back later that day.

“Back into bed with you, young man,” the head nurse ordered as she tucked Richie back under the sheets and straightened the linens as she went, “You’ve not eaten your breakfast either. Tsk.”

“I’ll go get something from the cafeteria. I need to eat something anyway,” Jon offered, rolling his eyes and pulling faces at Richie behind her back, almost being caught out when she turned unexpectedly.

“Remember! Soft foods,” she said with a wag of her finger in Jon’s face as she left.

“Finally!” Jon groaned, leaning up against the back of the door.

“What a day, huh?!” Richie said, still reeling from the news broadcast. After a minute of contemplation, he said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m glad they’re dead. Relief is the overall feeling at the moment.”

“I was looking forward to your whole rocket launcher idea, though,” Jon nodded, “but yeah, I’m happy they can’t hurt anyone ever again. I’m just sorry it wasn’t me that did it.”

“If you’d done it, then I’d have to visit you in jail,” Richie chuckled, “You’d be my jailbait, baby.”

“Who says I’d get caught?” he challenged with a quick grin, then continued as a small frown marring his features, “I thought I was free the last time but he found me...and hurt you. So I’m kinda finding this news hard to believe that it is all over...for good this time. Does that make sense?”

Richie nodded, then said, “Jonny...c’mere, babe,” patting the space beside him on the bed. 

“Are you trying to get me into bed, Mr Sambora?” Jon grinned saucily.

“Hmm...I don’t think I have to try very hard, do I?” Richie said and noticed that Jon’s eyes darkened significantly as he crawled up from the base of the bed and squeezed in beside him.

He waited until Jon had settled before lowering the bed down again. He shifted to his side and with the fingers constricted by the cast, clumsily brushed Jon’s hair away from his face. He slipped his leg between Jon’s, his bare toes brushing against the fabric of the jeans he wore as Jon laid his hand in the centre of Richie’s chest.

“God, I love you, Jonny. What you did for me was...amazing, babe. How did you find them?” 

He had a feeling he knew who because she’d been trying to get him to talk to his parents for quite some time now. He would have to thank Rosie next time he was in the diner.

“My source is protected,” he said, “As I said, I wished I had my mother so it was an easy decision to make. I just wasn’t so sure they’d come around though. I’m glad they did...for your sake.”

They laid together, wrapped around each other in a comfortable silence as Richie drifted in and out of sleep. They were both processing their own thoughts in their own way when Richie, in a moment of lucidity, said, “Jonny?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m scared.”

“Oh, Rich...of what, baby?”

“Of..of wanting to make love to you,” Richie whispered, “and not...not being-”

“You’re scared that you won’t be able to stand me touching you?” Jon guessed.

Richie nodded. If he couldn’t stand Jon touching him, how will he even go back to work for Al when his livelihood depends on people fucking him or being fucked by him.

“That’s how I felt when you first found me,” Jon said, “And now I’m doing everything I can, not to touch you because I know...I know what that feeling is like, and it’s killing me that you’ve had to experience that.”

“But you got me through that,” he smiled as he continued. Jon’s hand moved from Richie’s chest to his face to cup his cheek, his thumb sweeping gently across his battered bottom lip and chin cleft, “You gave me a safe place and time to heal. I’m your safe place and I’ll give you as much time as you need, to heal. I’m not going anywhere...if you don’t want me to, that is.”

Richie couldn’t talk and truthfully, didn’t want to. He didn’t want to break the spell of the moment.

“I wish…,” he had to clear his throat, “I wish there was a lock on the door so I could find out now,” Richie whispered as his injured fingers brushed over Jon’s nipples, making Jon gasp and his eyes darken. With all of his heart, he wanted to test himself with Jon right now but in his mind, he knew that it would be a horrendously bad idea.

And as if on cue the doctor pushed through the door and Jon groaned in frustration. 

“Good afternoon! I see you’re feeling much better, Richie?!” he said with a chuckle as Jon rolled off the bed, clearly in a state of arousal.

“I’d be better if I could get outta this place, Doc,” Richie grumbled, “This bed is too small.”

“Okay, let’s see if you’re well enough to send you home.” He pulled on some gloves and proceeded to check his injuries. “Roll over please.”

After Richie had been examined the doctor pulled off the gloves and threw them into the rubbish before making notes on the chart.

“Well, considering the damage that had been caused and the fact that you’ve managed to have a successful, albeit painful, bowel motion then I think you’re on your way to a full recovery,” the doctor said, “Amazing, really.”

“You’re not the first person to say that my ass is amazing, Doc,” Richie joked and laughed at the doctor’s double-take shocked look. Jon just groaned and shook his head, chuckling under his breath.

“So... if I release you today there will be strict guidelines!” the unflappable doctor continued, “Bed rest for the next week to give your ribs a fighting chance to heal. Come back to the hospital next week to have a follow-up assessment and absolutely no sex for at least three weeks!” He peered over his glasses at Richie then turning his glare to Jon. “Do you think you can do that?”

“Absolutely! Anything to get outta here,” Richie said and held up his cast-free hand, “My right hand is ready, willing and able.”

“Do you have someone to collect you and take you home?”

Richie looked at Jon and said, “Babe, can you call my parents, please?”


	17. Epilogue

Jon

1st March - Three Years Later

Jon ran down the stairs that were concealed behind the bar after a quick shower and dressing in his usual jeans and loose button-down shirt and vest, his damp hair hung down between his shoulder blades. It was a Friday night and he was running late. He could hear that _Rosie’s_ was filled to capacity tonight and he was overcome with pride, yet again, that Richie was drawing that kind of crowd these days. 

He pushed open the door that separated their living areas upstairs to the bar downstairs and was greeted by the regulars that knew him. As he expected the bar was at capacity. 

He’d come to love the bar as much as Richie had. They’d taken great care in creating the best possible atmosphere with rich buttery cream walls and dark wood wainscoting around the bottom and were accented with music memorabilia and wall sconces that could be adjusted to suit the atmosphere.

The stage was at the far end was large enough to accommodate a full band set-up and was fitted with the latest in sound systems. The long mahogany bar sat to the left to the main entrance and shone with polished wood, mirrors and backlighting on the wall behind it made the bottles and its contents sparkle with life.

He ducked behind the bar and helped the staff serve people before grabbing himself a beer and stopping to watch his handsome partner seduce the crowd with the magical combination of his voice and masterful guitar playing.

There was a general buzz of people enjoying their Friday night but most eyes were drawn to the tall brunette sitting on the barstool with his double-neck guitar and black cowboy hat, slung low over his eyes, as he sang for the crowd. It didn’t matter how many times Jon watched Richie perform, it always gave him chills. 

David was up there with him, along with the rest of Richie’s band, which meant that Amber, heavily pregnant with their first child, and his parents would be here somewhere. The Samboras were probably with them also.

The past three years had been a whirlwind of highs and lows.

After the assault on Richie and the discovery of the Baxters bodies, there had been an investigation into the agency and found that Jon was not alone in his years of living with the pedophile couple with others coming forward with their horrific tales of abuse. 

There had been sweeping arrests of their contacts that had been complicit in the sexual abuse of minors. Eventually, there had been a formal apology from the agency and a class action against it with the ensuing result being a significant amount of money issued to all victims as restitution for their pain and suffering.

Not long after he had been released from the hospital, Richie had contacted Al and the three of them met up one evening at the diner. It was Jon’s first real meeting with him and it had taken a while for Jon to warm to Al, but his forthright demeanour and quick wit soon had him overcoming his trepidation. He also seemed to care for Richie in his own brusque way, which touched Jon.

Al had offered Richie a legitimate job managing a bar that he owned and he would fund the necessary renovations; the proviso being Richie had to make a profit within a year after any wages for himself and any staff. 

Richie, with Jon’s help, had worked hard that year and pulled in more than double the profits the previous manager had. They’d turned it into a cozy, inviting bar with plenty of seating and a stage for small bands. Word had quickly spread, with the help of free advertising in the Rashbaum Music store, about the bar as well as the reputation of its manager who played almost on a nightly basis.

As a reward, Al had given Richie renaming rights to the bar and the use of the living quarters on the first floor. 

There had been many middle-of-the-night conversations between himself and Richie about the name. Their decision had been made easier, sadly, when Rosie passed away suddenly and they’d lost their loving mother-figure and steadfast confidante.

He, himself, had taken over the majority of the day to day running of Rashbaum Music as Eddie decided to head into semi-retirement and only worked the weekends now. To Jon, Eddie and Flo were the parents he’d always dreamed of having when growing up. 

David, free from the constraints of the store, had continued into Juilliard and proposed to Amber on New Year’s Eve of their first year together. Their wedding, with Jon as best man, was the following autumn after they discovered they were pregnant. 

Adam and Joan were Richie’s biggest fans and would always be front and centre when he played on Friday nights. The rift between Richie and his parents had healed and flourished and they welcomed Jon unreservedly into their lives, even with photos of himself and Richie going up on the wall to join the others that Jon had observed on that fateful day he confronted them. He was surprised one Christmas, to see a candid one of them kissing, taking pride of place on the mantle over the fireplace.

He and Richie had fallen even more deeply in love with each other as they battled the demons of the Baxters. It hadn’t been easy to go back to the small apartment, knowing that he’d been in there without them knowing. 

Richie had woken on multiple occasions, in a cold sweat from nightmares. His psychological scars taking longer to heal than the physical.

As soon as the doctors had given him the all-clear, including sexual health blood screenings for them both, they’d slowly resumed their sex lives. Jon had taken the lead for their first time, much as Richie had done for him. It wasn’t a complete disaster but both were overly conscious of Richie’s recovery. It had been both frustrating and at times, hilarious as they were both being overly solicitous of the other in the beginning but time, perseverance and love finally got them through the hard times. 

They fought hard, laughed often and they loved completely.

Jon knew that Richie was it for him and he had the feeling Richie felt the same about him. He never wanted to look at anyone else and had started saving for some kind of symbol of his commitment for Richie’s birthday in a few months. 

When Jon had stepped inside the bar tonight, he did what he normally did and scanned the crowd. For what, he wasn’t quite sure but it was one of those ritual things he did. He’d said one time to Richie that he thought he was going to be cautious and on guard, forever and a day. 

Tonight he’d notice a group of three guys that tried so hard to blend in, that they stood out. He kept a close eye on them, watching them scribble notes on a legal pad, watching Richie then seemingly discuss him or his performance. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but the hand gestures were aimed Richie’s way.

Two were older than their third companion, or so it seemed. They all had longish hair in various shades of brunette. The first, the leader if you will, had a cigar firmly clamped between his teeth and a bottle of Jack in front of him. He was watching Richie intently, now and then smiling, almost fondly. 

The one to his left seemed more laid back, his John Lennon glasses reflecting the stage lights. He didn’t seem to talk as much, but when he did, the other two turned to listen intently to what he was saying, occasionally laughing at something that was said. He was the note-taker.

The last, the younger one, was like a lightning bug in a jar, unable to keep still, as though his activity kept his inner light glowing. He air guitar-ed along with Richie as though he was trying to learn the chords as he watched on, nodding and smiling widely at what he was witnessing.

A pretty blonde caught Jon’s eye just then and his attention shifted from the trio to the woman. She was leaning on the bar in a way that her ample bosom was clearly on display. He smiled politely, flirted noncommittally and served her drink quickly to send her on her way with her head full of his pretty words. He’d learned that his looks could be used to his advantage with customers of both genders at the music store and the bar.

He turned to the next customer and was interested to see that it was the younger of the trio.

“Hey...what can I get you, man?” Jon asked.

“Some information at this stage,” he replied and held out his hand to Jon, “Name’s Phil, but people call me X.

“Jon...nice to meet you,” Jon replied and shook the man’s hand, noticing the string of tattoos up his forearm that disappeared under his shirt sleeve. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

“The guy on stage; do you know him?” Phil asked, “My colleagues and I are interested in talking to him.”

“What about?” Jon asked, “I know him quite well so I’ll be able to tell you if he’ll be interested or not. If it’s about selling the bar, it’s not his to sell.”

“Nah, man,” Phil shook his mane of hair and leaned over the bar a little further, similar to the blonde before him, “We’re from HeyMan! Records. My friends are the owners, Tico Torres and Hugh McDonald.” He handed three business cards to Jon. “We want to offer...what’s his name? Richie? a possible record deal. Think he’d be interested?”

Jon smiled and nodded as he read the cards, “Yeah...I think he’d be interested,” Jon replied, “Tell ya what...his set’s almost done in another song or two. I’ll let him know and he can decide if he wants to speak to you. Can I get you all anything? On the house, man.”

“Nah, man, we’re cruisin’. Thanks, though! Send him over when he’s done,” he replied and tapped his hand on the top of the bar and returned to his seat. Jon looked over and the other two held their glasses up in salute. Jon returned the gesture with his beer and tucked the cards into his waistcoat pocket.

He indicated to the duty manager that he was leaving the bar in his hands and stepped from behind the mahogany as the band finished the song. He stood in the wings, waving to the family when they spotted him. He couldn’t wait for Richie to finish so he could tell him who was here watching him.

“Thank you,” Richie acknowledged the crowd and turned to wipe his face on a towel left on the drum riser before turning back to the microphone. “Ah...I hope you’ll indulge me a moment here. We have time for one more song and I have someone I want to bring up on stage with me.” Richie shielded his eyes from the lights and searched for Jon, spying him to his left.

“Jonny, come up here, babe,” Richie motioned to him and those in the crowd that knew Jon cheered and whistled.

Jon threw Richie a look but took the stage anyway. Normally Richie would let Jon know if he was going to bring him up with him. He hadn’t said anything about it earlier today.

“What are you doing, Rich?” Jon said when Richie hugged him. He also pinned David with a stare over Richie’s shoulder. He only shrugged his shoulders but Jon couldn’t miss the ‘something’ in his eyes.

“You’ll see,” he smiled and sat Jon on the stool before grabbing the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen...some of you know us but for those who don’t, I just want to tell you a little story. You see, Jonny here,” he sent Jon a look that set butterflies to the breeze in his stomach, “bowled me over one night, literally as well as figuratively, and well...my life hasn’t been the same since.”

“At least you’ve stopped fucking apologising for every time you accidentally injure me! You got a good right hook, Jonny.” Richie, with a quick grin, rubbed his face and a ripple of laughter went around the room.

“Hey!” Jon protested good-naturedly.

Richie chuckled but continued, “We’ve helped each other through some ugly, tough shit but he’s stood by me through it all...with loving arms and an open heart to come home to every night and I hope I’ve managed to do the same for him. So..,” Richie cleared his throat and took a sip of Jon’s beer and winked at him, “guys, let’s do this…” he said and the drummer counted the song in. 

Jon recognised the old Al Green classic that Richie had been tinkering with over the past couple of weeks. He hadn’t thought anything of it until now. 

_I, I'm I'm so in love with you_  
Whatever you want to do  
Is all right with me  
Cause you make me feel so brand new  
And I want to spend my life with you 

Jon let Richie’s smoky, bluesy voice wash over him like a warm breeze until the magnitude of the words filled his soul. Tears pricked behind his eyes as he looked into Richie’s deep chocolate one.

_Let me say that since, baby, since we've been together_  
Loving you forever  
Is what I need  
Let me, be the one you come running to  
I'll never be untrue  
Oh baby  
Let's, let's stay together ('gether)  
Lovin' you whether, whether  
Times are good or bad, happy or sad  
Oh, oh, oh, oh, yeah  
Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad 

There was close to one hundred or more people jammed into the bar and as the song progressed the noise fell away to a hushed murmur, most of who had stopped talking because others around had done the same, instinctively realising that something special was happening.

_Why, why some people break up_  
Then turn around and make up  
I just can't see  
You'd never do that to me (would you, baby)  
Staying around you is all I see  
(Here's what I want us do)  
Let's, we oughta stay together ('gether)  
Loving you whether, whether  
Times are good or bad, happy or sad  
Come on  
Let's stay, (let's stay together) let's stay together  
Loving you whether, whether times are good or bad 

As the song faded away and Richie took his guitar off and laid it in its stand, Jon couldn’t seem to move. Richie motioned to David, who checked his watch, nodded and threw something his way before he turned back to Jon.

Richie smiled at Jon, his eyes twinkling, and said into the mic, “Phew...I did it. It’s officially past midnight. Happy birthday, baby. I hope you don’t mind but I invited a few people to your party.”

Jon’s laugh bubbled up through the happy tears, “I always said you were a good party planner, Rich.”

“Jonny...I can’t begin to tell you how much you’ve changed my life. You picked up the pieces and glued it all back together with your smile and your love. As the song says, you make me feel so brand new and I want to spend my whole life with you.” 

The crowd started to erupt as Richie knelt before Jon and nervously held open a small jeweller’s box. Inside was a simple silver band circled with Celtic trinity knots.

“One day...not so long ago,” Richie said, only to Jon, the microphone only just picking up his words, “I used to want to stand in front of a preacher and loved ones and commit my life to that special someone.”

“But now...I can’t think of a better place to do it than here, committing my life to you, in front of all these witnesses.” 

Jon couldn’t drag his eyes from Richie, even if he wanted to, because all he could see was this man and their future together. 

“Jon Bongiovi, I love you with every fibre of my being. Will you do me the honour of saying you’ll be mine for the rest of our lives?” 

Jon huffed out a breath and with a surprised smile, nodded his answer before falling slowly into Richie’s open arms, wrapping his arms around Richie’s neck as their lips met over and over again as they lost themselves in the moment.

Jon broke first and said, “Yes, yes, yes. I love you so much, Rich.”

Richie slipped the band on Jon’s finger and crowed, “A round of drinks on the house!”

David bounded from behind his keyboard and threw himself on his brothers, the three young men falling in a happy heap on the stage. The other two band members hauled everyone up and offered their congratulations.

Richie grabbed the towel and his drink before linking his fingers with Jon’s and pulling him toward the parents who had been waiting patiently. They were immediately engulfed in hugs and kisses from Joan and Flo before Adam and Eddie got their turn. 

As things settled down Jon remembered the cards in his pocket. 

“Oh shit! Rich!”

He looked over to the table to see the three men deep in conversation.

“What’s up, Jonny?”

He fished the cards from his pocket and pressed them into Richie's hand. “Over there. They want to talk to you.” Jon pointed to the table over the other side of the bar.

Richie looked down at the cards, flicking through them as he read them.

“Oh fuck!” He swiped his hand over this face nervously.

“Go to talk to them, Rich!” Jon kissed Richie resoundingly. “I love you, babe, you got this!”

Jon sent Richie on his way, watching every moment until it became unbearable, especially the way the cigar-chomping guy got up to hug Richie; a little too tightly, a little too long.

Thankfully David distracted him, drawing his attention back to those around him. 

“Jonny...Amber and I are going to head off, man,” he said.

“We’re so happy for you both, Jon,” Amber smiled and hugged him tightly.

“Thanks, guys,” Jon smiled, “I wondered why you were here...thought you were under house arrest from this one.” Jon sent a pulled-punch to David’s mid-section. He’d become Jon’s best friend over time and they behaved like natural brothers.

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, honey,” Amber smiled as she rubbed her belly and David slipped his arm around his wife’s waist.

Jon bent down and spoke to her ripe belly, “Hey little one, let your mama sleep tonight, huh?” He was rewarded with a very visible roll beneath Amber’s shirt.

They said their goodbyes and Jon sat heavily in the seat vacated by Amber at the table with the parents. He dragged his hands through his hair only for the ring to catch his eye, glinting in the lights. He looked down at his hand and smiled as his thumb wiggled the silver band from underneath.

He didn’t realise he was being watched closely until both Joan and Flo both emitted small joyful noises. He looked up to see all four looking at him. He blushed furiously and grinned.

“I guess you all knew about this?” he asked and chuckled when they all nodded in various degrees of enthusiasm.

“He’s been wanting to do it for a while now, Jon,” Adam said.

“But he wanted it to be special,” Joan continued.

“So Eddie came up with the idea of it being on your birthday since that’s when you two became one for the first time,” Flo said, beaming at her husband.

“You getting sappy, old man?” Jon grinned at Eddie affectionately, “Thank you.”

“You both deserve all the happiness in the world, Jon,” Adam said, “to make up for all the wrongs in your lives. Joan and I are so proud to have you in our family.”

“Even if you did scare me on that first day,” Joan smiled and patted his hand.

“I knew it!” Jon exclaimed with a quick smile, “I thought I had but I was beyond caring. I could only think about Richie. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly,” Joan scoffed, “It's water under the bridge. So who’s that Richard is talking to?”

“Oh!” Jon brightened and turned quickly to check on Richie over his shoulder before turning back, “They’re record execs with HeyMan! Records! I think...shit… I think they want to offer him some kind of deal. Fuck, I’m so nervous for him.”

“They have a great reputation,” Eddie said, “Hope it all goes well.”

“Oh! They’re leaving,” Flo said, “ and Richie’s coming over.”

Jon couldn’t help himself. He stood and turned, watching Richie coming closer, studying every move and facial expression for a clue as to how it went. Richie looked up and saw him and his face lit up with happiness.

“Well?” Jon asked impatiently, squeaking when Richie scooped him up and twirled him about.

“I got it! Fuck me! I got it,” Richie exclaimed happily, “They want to sign me, babe.” He kissed Jon soundly on the lips before taking Jon’s seat and pulling him down into his lap to the congratulation of the parents. 

“Holy shit, babe, it’s just one record so far but they want to see where it goes. Apparently, X has been here a few times when I’ve played and liked my sound and my songs so he bought in the big bosses.”

Jon noticed Richie frown a little, “What’s wrong?” Jon could feel the tension in him building.

“Um...well...ma, dad, you remember the guy you caught me with that day?” Richie asked. 

Adam and Joan looked at each other and nodded.

“That...that was Tico...Tico Torres,” Richie said.

“The head of HeyMan! Records. He recognised me when he saw me. Jonny...ma, dad...do any of you have a problem with that?”

“He’s the one that hugged you?” Jon asked and Richie nodded, searching Jon’s eyes. Jon really wasn’t sure but as long as he kept his hands to himself, there wouldn’t be any issues that he could see.

“Listen, Richard,” Adam said, “That was about ten years ago and you’ve not seen anyone else in the past three years since Jon came along, right?”

“I’ve never wanted anyone else,” Richie replied and tightened his grip on Jon.

“I think you have your answer then, sweetheart,” Joan said with a soft smile to her son before turning to her husband, “I’m a bit tired, Adam, after all this excitement tonight. It’s late. Let’s leave these folks to celebrate.”

“Yes, of course, mother,” Adam agreed and stood, pulling Joan’s chair out. 

Richie tapped Jon on the ass to get him to stand, wrapped his mother in a bear hug and twirled her around, “Oh! Oh, Richard, put me down,” she laughed.

“Thank you, ma, for everything,” Richie said and kissed her cheek.

The father and son embraced next. “We’re so proud of you, son,” Adam said hoarsely, emotion cracking his voice.

“Thanks, Dad, that means a lot!” Richie replied.

“We’re going to go too,” Eddie said, assisting Flo to her feet, “Congratulations, boys, with everything. Jon, take today off for your birthday. Sean can cover things until I get there in the afternoon. Richie...I’ll have a list of reputable managers to you in the next day or so. No obligation to use any of them but they’re good people.”

“Thanks, Eddie, I appreciate that,” Richie said and shook his hand.

Jon knew he wouldn’t get away without a hug from Flo so after saying his goodbyes to the Samboras, he stood himself in front of the woman he considered his mother. He could see the happy tears in her eyes and he smiled fondly down at her and opened his arms.

“Oh Jon...you finally got your happily ever after, sweetie,” she said tearfully, “I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks mom…,” Jon said hoarsely. He couldn’t manage to say anything else so he just hugged her a little harder, hoping it would convey everything he was feeling. He kissed her cheek and gently pushed her back. She turned and took Eddie’s arm and the two couples wove their way through the tables to the exit.

Jon felt Richie’s arms wind around his waist, his chin resting on his shoulder. Jon covered Richie’s hands and leaned back into his body with a happy sigh.

“Happy, baby?” Richie asked.

“Uh-huh,” Jon smiled and turned in Richie’s arms, “Too bad it’s not closing time otherwise I’d take you upstairs and show you how happy I am.”

“Is that right?” Richie grinned. Jon nodded and bit his bottom lip making Richie growl hotly in his ear. “Gimme half an hour to get everyone outta here,” he said and pushed Jon toward their door with a smack on his ass.

“Attention everyone!” Richie yelled, throwing his hands up in the air as Jon walked through the crowd, “Rosie’s is closing early tonight. Finish your drinks, settle up and get the fuck out! I gotta fiance to go home to tonight.”

Jon threw his head back and laughed at the raucous cheer that went through the place but was touched by the fact that the crowd was doing as they were asked. He received congratulations as he made his way through the bar and was asked many times by women to see the ring.

Jon entered the bar area and started to help clean up as Michael, the duty manager, tallied the cash register with Richie subtly giving stragglers the hurry-along.

When the last of the staff and patrons had left Richie locked the doors to Rosie’s for the night and checked his watch. 

Jon waited for him at their interconnecting door, watching, appreciating how his shirt was open enough to reveal the creamy caramel of his chest with the smattering of chest hair and the top of his deceptively soft-looking belly that hid a rock-hard core beneath. 

Then those long, lean legs encased in time-worn denim that he loved to feel wrap around him and pull him closer when he was making love to him. Oh god… those legs that lead all the way up to heaven. His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath and licked his lips in anticipation.

He felt the familiar heat pooling in his veins as he thought about all the ways he wanted to show Richie his happiness.

Richie caught him staring and said, “Oh boy...I know that look, babe. It’s gonna be a long night, is it Jonny?”

In one fleeting moment, Jon took one step and his hands were cupping Richie’s jaw and his lips claimed his mate’s. Richie’s hunger matched Jon’s unbridled enthusiasm; his laboured breathing spurring Jon further. 

“Oh I plan on keeping you up all...night...long,” Jon said, punctuating the last three words with gentle suckles on Richie’s bottom lip leaving his fiance in no doubt of his intentions. “Your ass is mine tonight.” 

Jon saw the flare of heat in Richie’s eyes as Jon pushed him through the connecting door and bolted it against the world for at least the next few hours. 

Richie waited a few steps ahead, for Jon to catch up, holding his hand out to him. He took his cowboy hat off and placed it on Jon’s head and said, “Let’s ride, cowboy.”

**THE END**


End file.
